
Class 

Book 



CDEXRIGHT DEPO&m 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 



WITHOUT SOUND OF HAMMER 



In the Rift of the Rock 



EDGAR L. VINCENT 




THE ABINGDON PRESS 

NEW YORK CINCINNATI 



.V47- 



Copyright, 1918, by 
EDGAR L, VINCENT 



AUG 17 19(8 



©Gl.;.50148ft 






In 

Memory of 
Mt Father 



CONTENTS 

Chaptbb Page 

I. The Rock That Was Smitten 7 

TI. The Nest in the Side of the Rock. . 18 

III. Fire Out of a Rock 28 

IV. Dwelling on the Top of the Rock.. . 41 
V. The Pathway Between the Rocks ... 60 

VI. Graven in the Rock Forever 73 

VII. The Eagle's Abiding Place 81 

VIII. The Soul's Sure Footing 94 

IX. Higher, Still Higher, to the Rock. . . 106 

X. Forgetting the Rock of Strength. . . 128 

XI. The Shadow of a Great Rock 140 

XII. Hewn from the Rock 158 

XIII. Broken by the Hammer for Service. 168 

XIV. Honey Out of the Rock 179 

XV. A Song from the Top of the Rock. . . 189 

XVI. On the Rock Foundation 198 

XVII. That Rock Was Christ! 209 



CHAPTEE I 
THE ROCK THAT WAS SMITTEN 

Grim and forbidding, the Eock of Horeb 
lifted its head against the far-off sky. If it 
had one day been fused in the fire of God's 
great crucible, it could not have been more 
red nor yet more flinty. Was it, indeed, a 
fragment struck by the hand of the Almighty 
from Sinai and hurled into the plain below 
at some time in the dim and misty past, there 
to await the hour when Jehovah might use 
it to his honor and glory? Who would have 
thought that Horeb's Eock could ever be the 
means in God's hands of saving a people from 
the awful fate of death by thirst? 

Very little of beauty did the people see in 
the rock as they stood in its shadow that day. 
Their only thought now was that they and 
their little ones were dying for lack of water. 

Have you ever known what it is to wander 
about in the woods for days without a drop 
of water? If you have, you remember that 
every vein in your body seemed to run with 

7 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

fire. You could no longer speak above a 
whisper, so parched was your throat. The 
faster you hurried on in your quest for water, 
the more thirsty you became. O if you might 
but know the joy of coming to some rippling 
stream or crystal fountain ! Even a hollow in 
the ground, if holding no more than a cupful 
of the blessed water you needed, would seem 
like a God-given gift. Flowers nodded along 
the way ; you passed them with scarce a glance. 
Their fragrance drifted up to you out of the 
deep bed of moss in which they grew ; but you 
Avere unaware of it. What w^as such perfume 
to you now ! You were perishing of thirst ! 

On a hot summer night a man says he 
walked over a battlefield. The day had been 
red with carnage. Here, there, everywhere 
lay soldiers by the thousand, wounded, aching 
in every limb ; but it was not of their wounds 
these sufferers were thinking. "Water! 
Water! give us water — just a drop of water!'' 
This was the fearful cry which went up from 
a hundred lips, repeated again and again until 
the visitor could endure it no longer, for he 
had not a spoonful to give. With his fingers 
hard in his ears to shut out the awful cry he 
fled beyond the reach of voice. 

8 



THE ROCK THAT WAS SMITTEN 

So Israel was famishing for drink. Long 
since had they left behind them the bitter 
waters of Marah. 

^^Give us water that we may drink!" Over 
and over again rang the appeal in the ears of 
Moses, until it seemed to him he heard it night 
and day, waking or sleeping. ^^Wherefore is 
it that thou hast brought us up out of Egypt, 
to kill us and our children and our cattle with 
thirst?" "Give us water !" they demanded. 

It must be that Moses had gone with that 
bitter wail of the people many times to God; 
for Jehovah was ever his refuge and strength 
in time of trouble. At last, as if his very heart 
were breaking for sympathy, he cries : "What 
shall I do unto this people? They be almost 
ready to stone me!" Then, listening as if 
hope had quite died out of his heart, the great 
leader heard God's voice, issuing that strange 
command : 

"Go! . . . Behold, I will stand before thee 
there upon the rock in Horeb." 

Smitten by the Rod 

How far was it that Moses led the people 
that day? We may not know. Surely, it was 
far enough to tax the fast-failing strength of 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCE 

the mothers bearing their little ones. Could 
there have been any, however stout of limb 
he once might have been, who did not stagger 
with weakness long before the command came 
to halt? The halt? Where? Surely, not 
face to face with that barren rock! Pity 
them if they now lost all hope and gave way 
to bitterest reproach against the patient serv- 
ant of God ! They were at best only children, 
those men and women just out of the brick- 
kilns of Egypt. They had dreamed of a sunny 
land, flowing with milk and honey. Never 
were they to know hunger or thirst in that 
blessed country beyond the floods of the Jor- 
dan. Often in the silent watches of the night, 
as they lay them down in the dust of the 
desert, their hearts had turned away to the 
green fields and the vineyards heavy with the 
purple grapes of the land of promise. How 
sweet would be the fruits of that delectable 
country! Were meadows ever more green, 
did ever pastures lie more sunny than those 
of that home which was to be when at last 
the weary miles had slipped on out of sight 
and they had reached the farther shore of the 
river which rolled between them and their 
golden fancies? 

10 



THE ROCK THAT WAS SMITTEN 

As long as these visions buoyed them up, 
what eared they for stony road or aching feet? 
There might be sore lack of home comforts 
now ; on the morrow all this would be forgot- 
ten, for their eyes would rest on the hills 
beyond the swelling tide. There, they would 
know only plenty! There home and joy and 
peace forever and forever! So they could 
plod on uncomplainingly, led by the pillar 
of fire by night and the pillar of cloud by day. 
With glad hearts they heard the summons 
of their leader when at break of day the ark 
set forward. ^^Eise up, Lord, and let thine 
enemies be scattered; and let them that hate 
thee flee before thee!" Joyfully they could 
march through the day, camping when night 
let down its curtains and they heard the last 
call from the lips of Moses, "Return, O Lord, 
unto the many thousands of Israel." 

But here was nothing more than the rock of 
Horeb, stern, cold, forbidding. What a mock- 
ery of hope! How terrible the awakening 
from the visions and dreams of the happy land 
of Canaan ! 

Only the rock of Horeb? O, Israel, say it 
not! Soon thou art to have fresh proof of 
the love and the mercy and the power of 

11 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

Jehovah! Somewhere in the valley, when 
speaking to his chosen commander, God had 
said, "Take with thee . . . thy rod, where- 
with thou smotest the river, take in thy hand 
and go.'' 

"Thy rod." Where did Moses get that bit 
of wood? Was it not one day in the long ago, 
when he was caring for the sheep at the back 
side of the desert? It was a day to make one 
long for the shade of a friendly tree. The 
sun beat down with stifling heat. The path 
taken by the sheep was hard and stony. Great 
beads of sweat stood out on the brow of the 
shepherd. Then he caught sight of a wisp 
of a sapling. It must have had just the bend 
near one end that the crook of a watcher of 
sheep would need to pull the wayward lamb 
back to its fellows when it had strayed out 
of the path in search of a choice tuft of clover. 
And Moses cut it and turned the stick into 
a staff. Sitting on a mossy bank all alone, 
he trimmed away the little branches which 
grew along the body of the slender sapling. 
Carefully — for at last he had learned the 
blessed quality of patience — he pruned and 
smoothed the knots, until at last it pleased 
him. He used it to lighten the way over the 

12 



THE ROCK THAT WAS SMITTEN 

toilsome footpaths and it helped him to climb 
the rugged steeps. More than one little lamb- 
kin of the flock felt the tug of that crook about 
its neck, gently drawing it back to safety by 
the side of the mother ewe. And yet, it was 
only a shepherd's staff ! 

Then one day, when the fullness of time had 
come with God, and the shepherd was to leave 
forever behind the sheepcote, and the days at 
the back side of the desert were to be no more, 
that he might give his servant the greater 
work of shepherding his people, Jehovah 
touched that wisp cut from the wayside bush 
and it became the Rod of God ! Moses might 
still lean upon it when the way was long and 
his limbs tired, but now it was to be conse- 
crated to a higher purpose. Laid upon the 
water of the river at the command of God, 
the tide flowed back and the people went over 
dry-shod. Cast on the ground, it became a 
wriggling serpent. Held high in the hand of 
Moses, it brought the army of Jehovah to vic- 
tory. What new and startling use is to come 
to the rod to-day? 

^^Smite the rock !'' 

Smite the rock? What could be the mean- 
ing of that command? Could anything of 

13 



IN THE KIFT OF THE EOCK 

good come from such an action? Surely, it 
must be that God is playing with the miseries 
of his people. Ah ! but a thought so shameless 
as that never came to the mind of Moses. He 
knew the Holy One of Israel too well to doubt 
that some wonderful manifestation of his 
power was coming. Quickly the conviction 
was changed to certainty. 

^^There shall come water out of it, that the 
people may drink.'^ 

Water from the rod-smitten rock! O 
blessed word — promise of God himself! 
Promise made upon the warrant of Him whose 
word never f aileth ! Did Moses look up at the 
smooth side of that fire-burned rock and 
wonder how it could possibly be that from it 
should spring a single drop of moisture? Was 
ever a task like that set for living man? Ah ! 
the man of God never did it. He did not 
wonder — he knew! Already by faith he saw 
the soul-refreshing waters gushing from the 
bosom of the stone! And he lifted the Rod 
of Jehovah strong, sure, in faith believing. 

"And Moses did so in the sight of the elders 
of Israel!'' 

The days of thirsting were all over now! 
Out of the cleft of the rock came gurgling 

14 



THE ROCK THAT WAS SMITTEN 

forth a great stream of living water, sweet, 
pure, cooling the fever and bringing back 
hope to the dying wanderers of the wilder- 
ness ! Saved by water from the rock, the rock 
touched by the hand of God ! 

In My Hand and Thine ! 

Have we not all quenched our thirst at 
fountains opened out of the very heart of the 
rock at the touch of a rod to which God has 
given power? 

Once we too had our dreams of a home 
beyond some Jordan. How we longed to be 
of service in the bringing in of the Kingdom ! 
We pleaded for power. It seemed to us it was 
a plea from which God would not turn away. 
Would it not be to his honor and glory that 
our petition should be granted? Had we not 
prayed over it until tears wet the pillow night 
after night? Still no sign. The heavens 
seemed like brass and we were dying of thirst. 
This way and that we seemed to be led, 
always over red-hot sands and under blister- 
ing skies. The flowers along the way faded. 
The leaves on the trees withered. Hope wav- 
ered in our hearts. We had been led only to 
the flinty rock of Horeb! 

15 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

Only there? Have we^ then, forgotten the 
fountain opened in the desert? Hark ! What 
is it God is whispering to ns? 

"What is that in thine hand?'' 

"Only a rod, my Father!'' Weakly the 
answer comes, wrung from lips that are pale 
with doubt. And yet when he has bidden us 
"Take it and smite the rock/' out of the riven 
rock have gushed great rivers of water; the 
most sanguine hope has been realized, the 
longing fully satisfied. It was the very last 
thing we would have thought of using. We 
had been thinking of other things than that 
simple staff. What was it but a stick cut 
by the side of the road? It could have no 
better use than to help us up the mountain 
path. So we thought and we had passed by 
the very thing God meant to make most help- 
ful in his service. 

So it is that gifts of mind or heart or soul 
may be blessed and turned into instruments 
for bringing water out of the solid rock. Just 
when we are most disheartened, when all our 
effort seems like a pitiful travesty, listening 
to God's voice we may use some little heart- 
treasure, some endowment of mind, to win for 
those we love the Water of Life! 

16 



THE ROCK THAT WAS SMITTEN 

Is it only a little gift of song? Sing with 
all thy soul, O, friend of mine, and let me 
sing with thee ! Is it nothing better than the 
ability to turn a good straight furrow or to 
run a beautiful seam across the garment in 
thine hand? Hold the plowshare firm and 
true; push the needle through with steady 
hand. Fain would I hold but the tip of one 
handle, or the selvedge of the cloth, glad that 
such may be my part in the service, and sure 
that God will honor it; for know thou that God 
will see to it that the harvest will grow golden 
yellow on the top of thy furrow. Thy seam 
will be threaded through and through with 
beauty, beauty in thine own life and glory 
in the life of another. Are all the cords but 
one in thine harp broken by life's overstrain? 
Strike that one string lovingly and without 
a doubt in thine heart. Its music shall surely 
find its way into some sinner's heart. Speak 
the kindly word! It shall win some soul for 
Jesus! For the rod-smitten rock never yet 
failed to send out its healing waters when God 
spake the word. 



17 



CHAPTER II 
THE NEST IN THE SIDE OF THE ROCK 

You never would have looked for a nest in 
such a place as that. Knee-deep in the meadow 
where the grass grows sweet and rich in its 
fragrance you have found many a cozy place 
where the little friends of the feather have 
tucked away their nests. Prom more than 
one pasture bush, close-set about with thorns 
though it was, you have caught sight of bare- 
headed birdlings swinging, safe from soft- 
footed foes and hawk-eyed pirates of the sky. 
It did not surprise you to discover them in 
even so forbidding a place as that. It was 
worth while to stop and pull aside the sharp- 
pointed branches of the thorn-bush to peep 
in upon the family of wee ones. 

But here, far up on the side of the hill, just 
where you never would have thought of look- 
ing for it, by the side of a beetling rock, a 
bird has built her nest. You might not have 
seen a trace of it, had not the mother bird, 

18 



THE NEST IN THE SIDE OF THE ROCK 

scared by the footfall of tlie approaching 
stranger, fluttered out of her nest when you 
caught hold of a low-hanging bush by which 
to pull yourself up to the top of the cliff. 

Here it was, however, with its heart-shaped 
basket of hair, gathered on many a day of 
gleaning through forest, field and glen, its 
coarser fibers shot through and through with 
threads of silken beauty, torn from tree and 
shrub and mossy bank, all so delicately lined 
with softest wool, picked up where the sheep 
lie in the heat of the day. You know she does 
all this in anticipation of the day when the 
speckled eggs will be gone. Only God and 
the mother bird know the secret of those 
broken eggshells and the nestlings which 
come in their place. He furnishes the wool, 
while she gathers it up and weaves it into 
downy quilts for the little ones she loves. 
For a moment you stand there looking in upon 
that mystery, and then you creep softly down, 
as if from some heart-treasure too sacred to 
be touched or even looked upon by one like 
you. 

As you turned your unwilling feet to go by 
another way to the summit of the rock, you 
fell to wondering why the mother bird sought 

19 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

that lonely place as the home for her birdlings. 
Down yonder in the meadow the sun was 
shining and the flowers nodding everywhere. 
The air was soft. A thousand songsters were 
fairly splitting their throats in songs of cheer 
and good will to the w^orld. Up here you 
might listen an hour and not catch a single 
bird note, save only the frightened chirp of 
the bird you just now scared from her nest. 
Only now and then a ray of sunshine fell be- 
tween the thick leaves overhead to w^arm the 
nest by the side of the rock. Always is the 
light dim there, and the only sounds the whis- 
perings of the branches and the music of the 
rippling brook down yonder at the foot of the 
cliff. 

But up here the old bird knows she and her 
wee ones will be safe. Ah, yes, up here is 
safety. Where is the hawk with eyes keen 
enough to find the nest in the cleft of the rock? 
Even should any cruel four-footed hunter of 
the forest suspect the presence of the bird 
watching so faithfully up yonder, by no 
means could he set his claws deep enough into 
the face of that steep to draw himself as high 
as that nest is. Here she might sit and wait 
the hour of God's unfolding secret with calm- 

20 



THE NEST IN THE SIDE OP THE ROCK 

beating heart. She and her little brood are 
safe, sheltered by the rock! 

"Strong is Thy Dwellingplace" 

Yes, "strong is thy dwellingplace, and thou 
puttest thy nest in a rock." 

Away down, in the land of Midian in the 
days when Moses was sitting at the feet of 
God and waiting the dawn of heaven's greater 
day for Israel, his fortunes were closely linked 
with those of the Kenites. Jethro, his father- 
in-law, and Hobab, who no doubt in after 
days served as eyes for the wilderness wan- 
derers, were both Kenites. It would seem 
that the family of Jethro, at least, went along 
with the children of Israel all the way until 
they reached the promised land, where they 
lived a nomad life, dwelling, so far as such a 
restless people can be said to dwell anywhere, 
among the Amalekites. 

When and how the Kenites first gained 
their knowledge of the true Jehovah we may 
never know; but somewhere and somehow 
they seem to have accepted him to be their 
leader and commander. May we not well 
believe that the wilderness experience, when 
they were sojourning with Moses and the 

21 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

chosen people, served to foster and strengthen 
the faith which had had its birth in the land 
of Midian? True it is that all the way through 
that trying period which came after the tribe 
had been engrafted into the people of Amalek, 
Jethro and his immediate household held to 
the ancient belief of Jehovah, so that when the 
command came to Saul, "Go and smite Ama- 
lek, and utterly destroy all that they have/' 
the king, remembering the past, with a fine 
sense of honor, while lying in the valley wait- 
ing for a favorable moment in which to attack 
the doomed people, dispatched a messenger 
with this word to the Kenites: "Go, depart, 
get you down from among the Amalekites: 
lest I destroy you with them; for ye showed 
kindness to all the children of Israel when 
they came up out of Egypt/^ 

"So'^ — thus runs the narrative — "the Ken- 
ites departed from among the Amalekites.'^ 
Just where they went, and what was the 
future history of the people, nobody knows; 
but we cannot help wondering if they did not 
take refuge in some part of the land of Judah 
which was so strong that when that strange 
prophet, Balaam, the son of Beor, "saw the 
vision of the Almighty, falling into a trance, 

22 



THE NEST IN THE SIDE OF THE EOCK 

but having his eyes open/^ was warranted in 
saying what he did of the home of the Kenites. 

"And he looked on the Kenites, and took 
up his parable, and said, Strong is thy dwell- 
ingplace, and thou puttest thy nest in a roek.'^ 

Safe in the rift of the rock! Storms may 
howl about thee; war with its devastation 
may surge on every hand, sweeping the na- 
tions out of the way like chaff from the win- 
nowing wheat; God may thresh Amalek with 
the flail of Israel until its sin is all purged 
away; but thou, little band, art safe, because 
thou hast showed kindness to the people of 
Jehovah in the day of their great trouble ! 

Nesting Out of the Reach of Evil 

Lifers fairest meadows have their perils. 
The birds find it so. Yesterday they hung 
their beauty-woven homes down among the 
waving grasses. Daisies bent over them ten- 
derly. How sweetly the brook murmured in 
its wandering seaward ! What could there be 
of danger in a nesting-place like that ! It was 
only last night that the mother bird, when the 
sunshine was flashing its good-night over the 
world, peeped in upon her birdlings with 
happy heart, for all was well. 

23 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

But that was last night. This morning the 
little bird home is a ruin. The threads which 
fastened it to the bush are broken, broken the 
white and purple cords with which it wa^ 
bound. Torn and spoiled are the lining of 
wool and the silken mattress. While the 
shadows lay deep over meadow and hill an 
enemy passed by, and only a wreck is left. 
Mother bird driven from her home, little ones 
gone, dreams all shattered — ^lif e a mockery ! 

We have seen it so many a time, friend of 
my heart! It was but a few days ago that 
we put the last touches on the house which 
we hoped would be our dwellingplace as long 
as we would need one anywhere on this old 
earth. How long we had been planning for 
this, our nestingplace ! Through many a year 
we had been working and sacrificing and sav- 
ing that one day we might move into a home 
of our own. It would be for the last time until 
we went out when God would whisper to us, 
^^Oome up to the house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens.'^ We were so happy 
when at last we put off the sandals of our 
pilgrimage and leaned back in our easy chairs 
to dream, to rest our souls and to love our 
birdlings. 

24 



THE NEST IN THE SIDE OF THE EOCK 

The morning light broke, but it burst on a 
place of desolation. Not our home, surely? 
Ah, but it is so. Something came through the 
gloaming and struck the place which was so 
dear to us. Was it sin? It must have been. 
Nothing else could ever be so cruel. Gone 
the hopes of the years, gone the day dreams, 
gone the little plans that made past days 
so happy in prospective, gone the visions, 
the long looking into the rapture that was 
to be ! 

Now what? Shall the soul grow bitter and 
the sunlight of the heart be changed to mid- 
night blackness? Shall we give up the striv- 
ing, the hoping, the dreaming? 

That is not what the bird does. She wings 
her way to the heights in search of a safer 
home. She had to be driven from the meadow 
that she might seek the mountain peak. Pa- 
tiently she gathers up the fragments of her 
broken nest, all the shreds of cord, the bits 
of wool, the very ravelings of cloth, and bears 
them away from the lowlands, away from the 
rippling brook. She flits to the cleft in the 
side of the rock. Here she builds once more, 
and builds for peace and love and joy. 

Shall we not bQ wise enough to learn from 

25 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

this little dweller up yonder the lesson of the 
life which is hid with God? Because he knows 
the peril of the valley he invites us to the 
hiding of the Rock. He whispers to us, if we 
but lean out our souls to listen : "The clover 
blossoms are enchanting; I know it; but their 
beauty does not last. A little while and they 
will all be cut down and wither as the leaf. 
The brook sings a sweet song now. Yet a little 
while and the heat of the day will smite its 
waters and you will listen for their music in 
vain. Come up with me! I will hide thee 
in the cleft of the Eock! I will be to thee 
everything thou thoughtest to find in the 
valley meadow! Come, dear heart! Come 
with me." 

And shall we not place our hands in the 
hands of God and let him lead us whitherso- 
ever he will? High up yonder he has riven 
a place for us all, in the very heart of the Eock 
which is Christ Jesus. It is always noonday 
up there. He will slit the leaves for us in 
many a place. The sunshine will filter in to 
light up every experience of life — "the Lamb 
shall be the Light thereof.'^ Here we may 
build our home, knowing that it will last. 
Here nothing can ever come to molest us or 

26 



THE NEST IN THE SIDE OP THE EOCK 

make us afraid — ^we are safe in the rift of the 
Bock! 

"Safe in the arms of Jesus, 

Safe on his gentle breast. 
There by his love o'er-shaded. 

Sweetly my soul shall rest! 
Hark! 'tis the voice of Jesus 

Borne In a song to me. 
Over the fields of glory. 

Over the jasper sea. 

"Safe in the arms of Jesus, 

Safe from corroding care. 
Safe from the world's temptations. 

Sin cannot harm me there. 
Free from the blight of sorrow. 

Free from my doubts and fears. 
Only a few more trials. 

Only a few more tears! 

"Jesus, my heart's dear refuge, 

Jesus has died for me; 
Firm on the Rock of Ages, 

Ever my trust shall be! 
Here let me wait with patience. 

Wait till the night is o'er; 
Wait till I see the morning 

Break on the Golden Shore. 

"Safe in the arms of Jesus, 
Safe on his gentle breast. 
There by his love o'er-shaded, 
Sweetly my soul shall rest!" 

(Fanny Crosby.) 

27 



CHAPTER III 
FIRE OUT OF A ROCK 

When did the eye of mortal man ever be- 
hold a scene like this before or since? A naked 
rock under a wide-spreading oak; on its top 
a "kid of the goats/' slain and tastefully 
arranged in a wicker basket; a few cakes of 
unleavened bread and a measure of flour — all 
constituting a meat offering unto the Lord; 
on one side of the stone a man in the humble 
garb of a tiller of the soil; on the other the 
angel of the Lord, staff in hand. 

A moment they stand there, the man pale 
with suppressed emotion, looking with eager, 
questioning gaze into the face of his visitor; 
the heavenly messenger, searching deep into 
the soul of the man who stood over against 
him. Suddenly the hand which holds the staff 
is stretched out. Its far end touches the flesh 
of the kid and the unleavened cakes. Up from 
the rock rises a slender pillar of smoke, out 
of which soon shoots a flame of fire, licking 
up the sacrifice and dying only when the last 
morsel has been consumed. Another moment 

28 



FIRE OUT OP A ROCK 

and with wondering eyes the man of the hills 
sees the mysterious visitant vanish from his 
eight. 

A Great Call to a Great Man 

A great call had come to Gideon. For a 
moment it must have stunned him when the 
angel of the Lord appeared to him with the 
message, "Go in this thy might, and thou shalt 
save Israel from the hand of the Midianites.'' 
What wonder that a simple man of the fields, 
all unused to the ways of war, should stagger 
back with the startled cry, "O my Lord, where- 
with shall I save Israel? behold, my family is 
poor in Manasseh, and I am the least of my 
father's house. '^ What could it mean that 
such a summons should come to him? 

It was a time of great stress in Judah. As 
he had done many a time in the past, and as 
he must often do in the future, Jehovah was 
writing the story of his people with a pen 
dipped in blood, the blood of their own veins. 
Lulled by the prosperity which had come to 
them, a condition of great wickedness, mani- 
fested in idolatry and a gradual slipping away 
from God, had developed. At last Jehovah 
was provoked to rise in judgment. And the 

29 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

instrument he was using to lash Israel back 
into the old pathway of peace was the wild 
tribe of Midian, perhaps in alliance with the 
fierce Amalekites and other Arab neighbors. 

Bound together in a vast federation a hun- 
dred and twenty thousand strong, these tribes, 
a veritable scourge in the hand of Jehovah, 
poured across the Jordan. Not once only did 
they come, but over and over again, year after 
year, carrying away the cattle of the Israel- 
ites, robbing them of their grain and tramp- 
ling under foot all that they did not care to 
use, until the harassed people fled out of the 
country from Esdraelon to Gaza, up into the 
hills and even into the torrent-chiseled rocks 
— anywhere, so that they might escape the 
torment inflicted upon them by this pitiless 
flail of Jehovah. 

Hunted thus even to the caves and holes 
of the earth, Israel longed for deliverance, 
promising, as so many times before, to return 
to the true God and never let go his hand 
again. But where was the man brave enough 
and stout enough of hand and heart to free 
them from their oppressors? He must be a 
man clean without and within, as well as 
strong of limb; they were sure of that now. 

30 



FIRE OUT OF A ROCK 

God could not use any but a man of the 
purest heart. The day was indeed a dark one ; 
and the worst of it was that the people had 
with their own hands woven the curtain which 
shut them away from the sunlight of God's 
presence. And is it not ever so? 

"Before They Call I Will Answer'^ 

And God had a man in training, although 
that man was all unaware of the honor which 
was so soon to come upon him. God never 
lacks a man when he needs one. Human eyes, 
searching ever so closely, may discover no 
sign of the coming of the deliverer. All un- 
known, even to the man of God's choosing it 
may be, the divine passion may be slumbering 
in his heart, strength may be developing in 
his arm, love and hope and faith to move 
mountains may be springing up within him 
like flowers from the ashes of a fire-swept 
forest; and when the clock strikes — God's 
great clock of destiny — he steps forth to take 
his place and to do the work God knows he 
will do. 

How carefully has God set down the line 
of ancestry, as well as the geographical loca- 
tion of the man upon whom he would put his 

31 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

finger in this the hour of Israel's extremity! 
^^And there came an angel of the Lord, and 
sat under an oak which was in Ophrah, that 
pertaineth unto Joash, the Abiezrite; and his 
son Gideon threshed wheat by the winepress, 
to hide it from the Midianites." Threshing 
wheat while God seeks thee ! Thou blessed of 
the Lord, how we do envy thee! Busy about 
thy day's work, pressing from morning until 
night the duties of thy humble calling, all 
unaware of the heavenly eyes that are watch- 
ing thee, and the shining hosts which are 
keeping their never-ceasing vigil over thee, 
surely thou art just where we should be! Just 
there, and never anywhere else, will our sacred 
mission come to us, if ever it comes at all. 
How oft do we sit in the shade of the friendly 
tree, hands folded in our lap, eyes seeking to 
pierce the distance, peering as far as our dull 
vision may into the future, in the hope that 
soon the word may come to us, "Go ! I have 
work for thee to do!'' Help us to know that 
God does not thus choose his workmen. We 
must unfold our hands, we must up and away 
to the winepress; we must grip the flail and 
thresh our bit of wheat with all our might; 
we must prove our worth on the threshing 



FIRE OUT OF A ROOK 

floor before God will promote us to service 
on the field of battle. 

Gideon's very name proves that he had 
always been a man of work. ^^The tree-feller" 
his father and mother had named him. His 
tools were the tools of the man of the field — 
the ax, the sickle, the plow, the flail. It was 
his to clear the earth of its brush and rubbish, 
to cut away the trees, to put in the plow and 
to make the earth bud, bring forth, blossom 
and bear fruit. Driven from the old home 
acre, he had succeeded somehow, in spite of 
the harassing of the Midianites, in growing 
a bit of wheat. Snatching the bundles from 
the furrow, he had borne them away to a shel- 
tered spot, and here he was threshing the 
grain to keep his dear ones from hunger. 

But the tree-feller had not been so busy 
with his work that he had not thought long 
and deeply about the sad condition of his 
people. He knew why it was so. In his soul 
he had felt the steel of sorrow, sorrow that 
such trouble should have come upon Israel, 
and deeper sorrow that it should find its 
source in sin. That was the bitterest part 
of it. Sin had worked its inevitable havoc in 
the public and private life of the people. How 

33 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

it humiliated him! How earnestly did he 
long for some sign of a day when the black 
shadow would lift and Jehovah smile once 
more on the land of his choosing ! 

Many a time, it must be, Gideon had brought 
his meat-offering to the rock in the shadow 
of the great oak, in the great hope that Jeho- 
vah would catch the sweet-smelling flavor and 
listen to the cry that a better day might come 
to Israel; that repentance, sincere, earnest, 
might bring relief from pain and suffering 
and national disaster. Never before had there 
been any sign that God was listening. Always 
until now the smoke had curled upward to 
mingle with the clouds of the still sky above; 
the incense had seemed to bring no divine 
favor; Gideon went back to his work with a 
weary heart, and yet with a faith unshaken. 

And when at last the hour comes and the 
leader is to be called to the front, Gideon 
starts back in amazement that God^s choice 
should fall on him. Can it really be true that 
he is to be the one by whom the invaders are 
to be driven out and the new day brought to 
Israel? See how he puts God to the test. 
There is something about God's patience with 
Gideon as he dictates whether the fleece of 

34 



FIRE OUT OF A EOCK 

wool on the floor shall be wet or dry, as a 
proof that Jehovah is not mocking him, that 
fills the heart with mingled wonder and hope ; 
wonder that the Lord of heaven and earth 
should be so long suffering with his children, 
and hope that the same forbearance may be 
extended to us, his doubting, questioning, 
almost faithless children. Think of it! How 
steadily the narrative goes on, just as if it 
were two men who were arguing with one an- 
other, and not a puny thing of the dust lead- 
ing the Lord God Almighty to accept his plan 
for showing him what it was his duty to do! 
Listen ! 

^^And Gideon said unto God, If thou wilt 
save Israel by mine hand, as thou hast said. 
Behold, I will put a fleece of wool on the floor ; 
and if the dew be on the fleece only, and it 
be dry upon all the earth beside, then shall 
I know that thou wilt save Israel by mine 
hand, as thou hast said. And it was so; for 
he rose up early on the morrow, and thrust 
the fleece together, and wringed the dew out 
of the fleece, a bowl full of water. And Gideon 
said unto God, Let not thine anger be hot 
against me, and I will speak but this once: 
let me prove, I pray thee, but this once with 

35 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

the fleece; let it now be dry only upon the 
fleece, and upon all the ground let there be 
dew. And God did so that night: for it was 
dry upon the fleece only, and there was dew 
on all the ground.'' 

At last the token of God as given in the 
fire flaming to lick up Gideon's sacrifice under 
the oak at Ophrah is substantiated by the 
fleece lying on the floor, and the tree-feller 
lays aside his ax and his threshing tools and 
takes up the sword in Jehovah's service! 

The Call of the Flaming Rock 

God loves a modest man. See how he kept 
watch and ward over Moses, patiently going 
out with his flocks in the morning, choosing 
for them the choicest bits of grass, bringing 
them in at eventide and counting them care- 
fully to see if any are missing. Just when 
God's hour struck, the bush burst forth into 
the flame which burned but did not destroy. 
All through those lonely years at the back 
side of the desert, Moses had been thinking 
about God's leading as shown in his own life, 
and wondering why it was so, perhaps some- 
times feeling that a great mistake had been 
made. Was not his place really out there 

36 



FIRE OUT OF A ROCK 

in the glare of the world, doing things that 
would bring him the glory of men, instead of 
being buried here with the sheep? Very 
slowly must Moses have learned patience, for 
that was not his characteristic in the begin- 
ning. Little by little he came to see that it 
is fatal to try to run ahead of God, and that 
God knew him better than he knew himself. 
So true was this that when Moses, at last over- 
whelmed by a sense of his own unworthiness, 
shrank from God's call, declaring that he 
could not do the work to which he had been 
summoned, Jehovah insisted: ^^Surely, thou 
canst. I have read thine heart. I know thee, 
and I will be with thee." 

In a later day God sought the young man 
Saul. Where was he? Pushing himself ahead 
somewhere with brazen effrontery as a claim- 
ant for the kingdom? Riding post haste over 
the hills of Judaea, with blatant and wide- 
mouthed declarations that he was best fitted 
of all to sit on the throne, and stopping here 
and there to demonstrate the truth of his 
assertions by feats of throwing the javelin or 
other deeds of prowess likely to appeal to the 
unthinking? If this had been the way Saul 
pressed his claim for first place in the king- 

37 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

dom, God never would have spent a single 
moment looking for him. No. When God 
sought Saul for the anointing, he found him 
down among the wagons — hiding! And why 
hiding? Ah! God knew Saul's heart, and he 
lifted him from the furrow to the scepter. 

Like that was the calling of Gideon. God 
knew his heart. He was sure that, in spite 
of his shrinking from the summons which had 
so strikingly come to him, when the time came 
he would stand four-square for God and win 
battles in his name for the chosen people. And 
Gideon measured up to God's expectations. 
If he were told to send home thirty thousand 
men and go against the enemy with three 
hundred, he did it. If lamps and pitchers 
were placed in his hands to fight with, he took 
them and marched bravely away, sure that 
he was on the way to victory, for God was 
with him. God had touched the bare rock 
and it had flamed heavenward, a symbol of 
Jehovah's approval in the hour of the people's 
extremity. 

And there is an uplifting hand ever under 
the arm of the man who trusts not in his own 
strength but in the God of Gideon and of 
Moses and of David. Up from the rock will 

38 



FIRE OUT OF A ROCK 

flame the fire of conviction. If he asks that 
the fleece may be dry in the morning, not a 
drop of dew will moisten the wool at day- 
break. If he still stands uncertain before his 
prospective task and pleads that the fleece 
may lie one night more on the bare threshing 
floor, so that God may dampen it to show 
that he really means what he says, water by 
the bowlful will drip from heaven in the night 
shadows, upon the wool, while all the earth 
around is as dry as the drought of summer 
can make it. 

So patient is God with you and me! A 
thousand times he calls us to go and we do 
not go. We pretend that we have not heard 
the summons. We do not want to hear. How 
can we hear? The clang and the clatter of 
the world ring so in our ears. We grow to 
love its sounds, once so distracting to us. 
What if they do tire us and wear life out? 
We do not realize it until at last God says, 
"I must speak to you. I have a right to your 
life, my child ! I cannot let you go this way ! 
It is the way of doubt and of death ! I need 
you. Come from the noise and the clangor. 
Come from the sheep herding! Come from 
the threshing floor. Come from the hiding 

39 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

among the baggage and give me all that is 
left of thy life. I will make it so much richer. 
Thou shalt win victories for me. Hast thou 
been content too long to lag in the rear, a 
campfollower in the army of God? I will 
make thee a winner of souls. Thou hast found 
thy greatest joy in gathering poppies in the 
meadow. I will help thee to harvest armfuls 
of golden grain, until thy store house can no 
longer hold it. Only come ! Give thy life into 
my keeping. Come! Be a king for me.'' 
And shall we not go? 

"God caUing yet! ShaU I not hear? 
Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear? 
Shall life's swift passing years all fly. 
And still my soul in slumber lie? 

"God calling yet! And shall he knock, 
And I my heart the closer lock? 
He is waiting to receive; 
And shall I dare his spirit grieve? 

"God calling yet! And shall I give 
No heed, but still in bondage live? 
I wait — but he does not forsake; 
He calls me still — my heart, awake! 

"God calling yet! I cannot stay! 
My heart I yield without delay; 
Vain world, farewell! From thee I part! 
The voice of God has reached my heart." 

(Gerhard Terstergen.) 

40 



CHAPTER IV 

DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE EOCK 

When the light of the soul dies to a dim 
flicker and faith almost loses its grip, we 
love to turn to that part of the Book where 
Paul sets down for us the list of the men 
of the long ago, who by reason of their hold 
upon God were able to win mighty victories, 
the like of which no man of a doubting heart 
can ever hope to gain. Very majestically the 
story goes on from Abraham down through 
the line of the patriarchs. We have some 
account of the details of the great and grand 
things they were able to do by means of their 
trust in Him who is invisible and yet who was 
very real to them. Then at last, as if tired 
of mentioning particulars, the sacred writer 
begins to gather up God's heroes into one 
splendid cluster, as one might fill his arms 
with rare flowers from a field through which 
he is passing never to return. How swiftly 
the narrative hurries on ! 

41 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

^Time would fail me to tell of Gideon, and 
of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthae; 
of David also, and Samuel, and of the 
prophets." 

As Paul runs his finger down the list, how 
the heart is thrilled! The pulses which a 
moment ago ran so weak and cold now bound 
and turn into a fiery stream in one's veins! 
What a story ! How true it is that faith does 
really win the victory ! We are ready to rise 
up again and go forth with renewed zeal to 
wage life's battles. Surely, we shall win; we 
must win with Jesus Christ to be our Leader 
and our Guide. 

Then suddenly one name rises in tremen- 
dous prominence before us. For a moment that 
name overshadows all the rest. It is the name 
of Samson. Samson among the heroes? Paul, 
have you not made a mistake about this? How 
does it happen that the name of this man 
should ever claim such preeminence as you 
have given him? Samson — what memories 
that name brings up! Memories of a life 
of mingled contrasts such as might well 
stagger one did he not remember that every 
life is just so full of lights and shades; 
memories of fields of corn set on fire by flam- 

42 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

ing torches fastened to the tails of foxes, the 
grim plotting of a man, who, judged by that 
act, might seem scarcely capable of doing any- 
thing really great or true or manly ; memories 
of mighty victories won in the Spirit of the 
Lord, with the strangest weapon of man's 
devising, marking Samson as a man of su- 
perior strength and entitling him to admira- 
tion, if not respect; and still more bitter 
memories, pierced through and through by the 
pitiful cry of a blind giant, bowing himself 
against the door posts of a doomed house. O 
the pathos of that last call to heaven ! 

"O Lord God, remember me, I pray thee, 
and strengthen me, I pray thee, only this once, 
O God/' 

And God did hear the cry of this man of 
the childlike heart, so that it is written of 
him that he gained a greater conquest in 
death than ever he did in his life. 

Sometimes we laugh as we think of Samson 
and his history, and sometimes we cry. Now 
he seems to us little more than a jester, as 
he carries away the gates of Gaza on his back ; 
now he is the invincible conqueror, driving 
Philistia to the wall and redeeming his people. 
Surely, we must always look upon him as 

43 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

favored of God and worthy to be set down 
with the rest ^Vho through faith subdued 
kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained 
promises, stopped the mouths of lions, 
quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge 
of the sword, out of weakness were made 
strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight 
the armies of the aliens.'' All so brave, so 
true and so full of faith that the world is not 
w^orthy to be reckoned up against them. On 
the high tide of faith, Samson at last is swept 
with all this goodly company safe into the 
Kingdom. 

"The Sunny-Faced" and the Sunny-Hearted 

We love to think of the coming of the 
"sunny-faced'' boy Samson to that father and 
mother up among the cliffs of Zorah. Never 
before had this home known the prattle of a 
child voice; but soon God would have need 
of a man, so the "sunny-faced" boy was sent 
to bless them, and in due season to redeem 
Israel. Strange that it should have been to 
this humble man of the tribe of Dan and to 
a wife whose very name has been kept a secret 
with God — that it should have been to these 
two that so divine a favor was granted. So 

44 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OP THE ROCK 

we miglit say, were it not that Manoah was 
one of the few who still kept the faith in the 
midst of that ungodly generation. God never 
makes a mistake. He not only picks out his 
men but he chooses the homes in which they 
shall live; and in the case of Samson he did 
more than that. He sent his messenger with 
minute directions as to the bringing up of 
the child that was to be. The times were 
peculiar; a man of peculiar ability would be 
needed to pave the way out of the wild and 
stormy period that had come upon the Israel- 
ites to the stronger form of government 
ushered in in the time of Saul. 

Weakened by sin, tormented by foes on 
every hand, the state of affairs in Israel was 
indeed pitiable. Was the handful of corn on 
the top of the mountain to be wasted, the last 
kernel of seed to be lost? What wonder if 
even the heart of the truest Israelite grew 
faint as he asked that question? Well was 
it that all this was in God's safe-keeping. He 
would not let the germ of the nation's life 
be lost. Out of the dry, dead root of the man 
of Zorah He would bring forth the sprout 
which should one day scourge Philistia into 
subjection. So the ^^sunny" boy came. Prom- 

45 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

ised of God, born to the vows of the Nazirite, 
blessed of Jehovah, moved at times by the 
Spirit of the Lord, mighty from his youth up 
in all deeds of prowess, Samson springs to the 
stage just when God would have him come 
to the leadership. 

And a fiery leader Samson proved to be 
too, so meteoric in action and so incompre- 
hensible in his planning that even his friends 
followed him with surprised fidelity, while 
his enemies had no possible means of safe- 
guarding themselves against him. He was 
ever a thorn in the side of Philistia and they 
were at their wits' end to know how to cope 
with him. Could he by any means be brought 
low? Was not the Spirit of the Lord with 
him? How powerless must be the best efforts 
of the men of Philistia when compared with 
the shrewd native wit, the superhuman 
strength of one like Samson, when Tracked 
up by the Lord of heaven and earth! And 
yet—! 

With a sure confidence that one thus en- 
dowed must win, that he never can fail, no 
matter what may be the machinations of men 
or demons, we turn on through the pages of 
the divine record. Soon our hearts stand still 

46 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

as we come to the story of the awful wreck 
and failure. When God writes the history 
of your life and mine, he leaves nothing out. 
Sometimes we wish he might pass over some 
things. After some terrible lapse in conduct, 
when the lights have burned low along the 
shore and my life-bark has drifted into the 
thick shadows of sin; when I have well-nigh 
forgotten God; when faith seems clean gone; 
when I have stained my soul crimson in the 
pool of evil, and then haye been found of God, 
who has ever remembered me in mercy, and I 
have been brought back to my better self, sore 
of heart, ashamed of my awful degradation, 
then with what agony do I cry to him out of 
the night watches and on until the day comes 
to its brightest : ^^O, my Father, write not this 
story of my sin against me in the book of thy 
remembrance! Have I not suffered for my 
wickedness? Thou knowest how deep is my 
sorrow! I believe thou hast spoken forgive- 
ness to my soul ! Then surely I may be spared 
the humiliation of knowing that this black 
spot in my life has been set down against me 
in the book of life ! Let only the good I have 
done be written down! Surely, there have 
been a few such things. Give them a place 

47 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

in thy great scroll, but spare me, I do pray 
thee, all the rest, for thou seest my grief and 
my penitence/' 

And I am sure it would be so were that best. 
But I know that while I lie with my face in 
the dust I shall hear God saying unto me: 
^^My child, I know it all. I do pity thee, for 
I know thou art indeed sincere in thy sorrow. 
It shall be as it was between me and thee. 
The sin and the shame shall all be w^iped aw^ay 
out of thy soul. More than that may not be. 
God is Truth, as well as Mercy and Justice. 
What is written, is written, and it must 
stand." 

So I know that on the pages kept in heaven, 
every sin of my soul stands, and must stand. 
It has been so from the foundation of the 
world; it must be so to the end. The bad and 
the good, the foul and the fair, the failure and 
the winning, the doubting and the hoping — 
so the record must be made up, not that you 
and I may be thereby humiliated and broken 
down in spirit, but so that humanity may be 
helped and warned and kept from falling 
too. 

And I believe also that some day, when He 
comes for me, and the Lamb's book of life is 

48 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE EOCK 

opened, I shall find that all the weakness and 
the base and the sin-blackened things of my 
earth-life have been covered by the blood! I 
shall lean over the shoulder of my Saviour 
and hear him say, ''Thj sins which have been 
many are all forgiven thee/' Not a trace of 
them to be seen on that fair page ! So great is 
his mercy toward them that love him and fear 
him. 

Here, then, in the Book is told for your 
instruction in righteousness and mine, the 
story of a prisoner, it may be of priestly blood, 
with eyes gouged out by pitiless enemies, stag- 
gering blindly and holding hard to the arm 
of his guide until he comes to the posts of 
the house. What is this? One more effort on 
the part of a sin-defeated man to prove his 
strength? A last final attempt to startle or 
amuse those pressing about him? If we think 
that, we greatly misjudge this hero of the 
faith! This is Samson's supreme effort in 
behalf of the people he loves and for whom 
he has given the best there was in him. 
Swiftly, almost heartlessly so, the sacred nar- 
rative runs on: ^^And he bowed himself with 
all his might; and the house fell upon the 
lords, and upon all the people that were there- 

49 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

in. . . . Then his brethren and all the house 
of his father came down and took him, and 
buried him between Zorah and Eshta-ol in the 
burying-place of Manoah his father. And he 
judged Israel twenty years.'' 

Yielding to His Death 

Samson had known the joy of victory. The 
conquering spirit from Jehovah had surged 
through his veins. Even in the hour of his 
final defeat, when the red-hot passion of his 
heart dragged him down to the very dust, 
Samson had something of the hero in him. 

At the very high tide of success Samson 
grew tired. He was tired of his conquests 
and tired of his defeats. He longed for some 
retreat where he could go and be still with 
God. How the world does wear the very soul 
into shreds! And Samson chose a goodly 
place. He knew where he might be near to 
God. 

^^And he went down and dwelt in the top 
of the rock Etam." 

On the top of the rock Etam — safe with 
God! If Samson only might have stayed in 
that sheltering presence, or if he might have 
carried that presence with him everywhere, 

60 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE EOCK 

how it would have changed the whole course 
of his after career ! 

"They Bound HimT^ 

On the Rock of God we have taken our 
refuge. We have had the battle of our lives. 
In the early gloaming of the morning we 
girded ourselves for the fray. We unsheathed 
our blade with a right good will and threw 
away the scabbard. We fought the good fight 
of faith. Before the shout of victory went 
up we were flailed and wounded from head 
to foot. Sin did its worst. We carried away 
many a sore ; and yet it seemed to us a victory. 
A victory, although our souls were stained 
with the crimson shame long before night let 
down its curtain. Not always had we been 
responsive to the bugle call of the Great Com- 
mander. Sometimes we had let the banner 
of the cross trail in the dust in our very pres- 
ence. As we looked back over the day we had 
to confess that it had been one of mingled 
gain and loss. Not yet wer^ we safe. Even 
through the on-creeping mists of the evening 
we could hear the rallying cry of the enemies 
of our souls — the enemies we thought we had 
beaten back forever. It startled us. Not yet 

61 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

through to victory ! Not yet have we attained ! 
How blessed then to hear God calling us up 
to him ! 

^^Come with me, my child. Thou needest 
the comfort and the quiet of the Rock. Give 
me thine hand and I will lead thee. The way 
is narrow and stony ; but there is peace at the 
top. Come up to the rock Etam." 

Once I visited a great factory. As I passed 
with my guide from room to room I became 
conscious that it was more and more difficult 
for me to understand what he was saying to 
me. I drew up more closely, but a strange, 
distracting noise even then swallowed up his 
voice. My own words sounded weak and far 
away. With some difficulty the guide made 
me understand that the sound came from a 
great square box over in one corner of the 
building. The nearer we came to it the more 
its thunder shut out every other sound. Then 
the guide touched a little lever, and the din 
came to an end. Opening a small door in the 
side of the box, which had been slowly revolv- 
ing before we came, the guide showed me that 
it was partly filled with bolts in the making. 
As the box moved round and round, the bolts 
tumbled from side to side, striking one upon 

52 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

another, making the confusion which had so 
deafened me; but that motion was grinding 
off the sharp corners of the bolt heads and 
polishing the entire piece of metal until it 
was as smooth as glass. Just now tumult, 
distraction; now silence and rest. One turn 
of the hand brought it all about. 

How good it seems to creep away and be 
alone with God. I am so tired of the worry 
and the noise and the fret of life. Now the 
hand of God is laid upon the jangling ma- 
chinery, and all is still. The gate has been 
shut between me and the world. I am on the 
heaven-side of the door. 

At eventide in my boyhood days mother 
used to sit in the gathering shadows with her 
work on her lap. There were six of the little 
ones, and the hours had been filled with care. 
There had been clothes to make, food to pre- 
pare, and many a hurt to kiss away from the 
tear-stained cheeks of brothers and sisters. 
Now the little ones, the nestlings of the home, 
crept up to mother's side for the good-night 
kiss. The last worn stocking lay there neatly 
mended. With folded hands she was looking 
away toward the sky, still touched with the 
sunset. With a hush on our souls we listened 

53 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

while she sang, in a voice jnst as sweet as that 
ishe knows on the other side, I am sure, this 
eventide song: 

"Thus far the Lord hath led me on, 

Thus far his power prolongs my days; 
And every evening shall make known 
Some fresh memorial of his grace. 

"Much of my time has run to waste, 
And I perhaps am near my home; 
But he forgives my follies past 
And gives me strength for days to come. 

"I lay my body down to sleep; 

Peace is the pillow for my head, 
While well-appointed angels keep 

Their watchful stations round my bed. 

"Faith in his name forbids my fear; 
O may thy presence ne'er depart: 
And in the morning make me hear 
The love and kindness of thy heart!" 

(Watts.) 

We could not know the tug at the heart of 
our mother as she thought of the one she had 
loved and lost for a little while; but there was 
something in the look of her dear face that 
hushed our voices and helped us to know that 
her soul was away in the very Holy of holies 
where God is. She was on the Rock of Etam, 
and it was precious to her. 

54 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

No Sound of Bells 

Up here not even the sound of the bells of 
yonder town, gurgling through the twilight, 
has aught to disturb us. Are we not nearer 
to God than those who gather in the valley 
to call upon his name? So we fancy. Why 
should we go down from our comfortable 
eyrie? Let us lean back our souls and rest. 

^^One thing I have desired of the Lord, that 
will I seek after ; that I may dwell in the house 
of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold 
the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his 
temple. For in the time of trouble he shall 
hide me in his pavilion: in the secret of his 
tabernacle shall he hide me; he shall set me 
up upon a rock. And now shall mine head 
be lifted up above mine enemies round about 
me: therefore will I offer in his tabernacle 
sacrifices of joy; I will sing, yea, I will sing 
praises unto the Lord.'' 

So might Samson have sung up there in the 
rock Etam. It must have been a blessed ex- 
perience to him, away from the noise and the 
tumult on the plain. But it came to an end. 
Listen ! 

^Then three thousand men of Judah went 
65 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

to the top of the rock Etam. And they said 
unto him, We are come down to bind thee, 
that we may deliver thee into the hands of the 
Philistines. . . . And they bound him with two 
new cords, and brought him from the rock." 

Strange ending of what had been such a 
joyous resting time! Scarcely can we under- 
stand it. Did those men of Judah realize that 
in their extremity Samson would be worth a 
thousand men to them when they came into 
close grips with the Philistines? But did they 
distrust him after all, so that they were afraid 
to leave him to go down with them unbound 
and of his own accord, hoping that if they 
could but get him face to face with the foe, 
the old-time fire would break out in his heart 
and win for them the victory? 

And did Samson plead that his peace up 
there on the top of the rock should not be 
broken? Did he say, ^^You do not know what 
you ask. I have been very happy in my rock 
hiding place. Why should I put out my hands 
to be bound, so that I may be delivered, as 
you plainly tell me, into the hands of the 
Philistines? Go back and fight your own 
battles. Leave me to my tryst with Jehovah"? 

It would be like you and me to say that. 
66 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

Did not the three who were granted the privi- 
lege of going with the Master up into the 
mount of transfiguration have some such 
feelings? It was so calm up there! All the 
world was in a hush ! No distracting sounds, 
no distressing appeals for help. Only heaven's 
stillness, with angel visitants to make the 
place more sacred! "It is so like heaven 
here ! Let us make tents and stay as long as 
we will.'' Ah, Peter, that would not be well 
for thee nor for the poor, tired, sick and sin- 
tossed men down yonder. Very gently Jesus 
must have said it to Peter, leading the way 
back to the valley with its hard duties. 

So it is with us all. Just when heaven 
seems nearest and Christ dearest, outside the 
door of the soul clamant sounds arise. A 
thousand things leap up at the window to 
urge us to stay. A sunburst of alluring lights 
dazzles us. Myriads of voices— ah, how these 
voices of the flesh do tempt us to linger in 
the lap of sin! ^^Stay,'' they whisper. "We 
will make you happier than you ever have 
been before. You do not forget how blissful 
have been your experiences in the past, up 
here, so close to God. Why put out your 
hands to be fettered? Be forever free. Do 

67 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

not go back to the hard round of petty cares 
and trials.'' 

Does it not seem clear that the man of the 
sunny face recognized the call of God when 
it came to him? Let us go on with the story 
and see what came to him when he turned 
his back on Etam with its peace, its ease, and 
its release from service. 

^^And when he came unto Lehi, the Philis- 
tines shouted against him: and the Spirit of 
the Lord came mightily upon him, and the 
cords that were upon his arms became as flax 
that was burnt with fire, and his bands loosed 
from off his hands. And he found a new jaw- 
bone of an ass, and put forth his hand and 
took it, and slew a thousand men therewith." 

Well done, Samson! Thou hast seen what 
far too many of a later day have failed to un- 
derstand: that there is no failure like the 
defeat of standing still when God's call is to 
service. Hadst thou sent the messengers from 
thy people back and remained up there in 
thine eyrie, it may be thy name would have 
been missing from the roll of heroes. May 
we all learn the lesson of responding, "Here 
am I !" when the summons to duty comes. It 
may be in the night shadows, as it was to 

58 



DWELLING ON THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

Samuel of old, or it may be when the glare 
of noonday lies over all and we would like 
to stay under the friendly shelter of some tree 
of ease. Let not Etam keep its grip upon 
us. May we go down to conquest in the name 
of the Lord God of hosts ! 

"It may not be on the mountain height 

Or over the stormy sea; 
It may not be at the battle's front 

My Lord will have need of me; 
But if by a still, small voice he calls 

To paths that I do not know, 
I'll answer, *Dear Lord, with my hand in thine, 

I'll go where you want me to go!* 

"Perhaps to-day there are loving words 

Which Jesus would have me speak — 
There may be now in the paths of sin 

Some wand'rer whom I should seek — 
O Saviour, if thou wilt be my guide, 

Though dark and rugged the way. 
My voice shall echo the message sweet; 

I'll say what you want me to say! 

"There's surely somewhere a lowly place. 
In earth's harvest field so wide. 
Where I may labor through life's short day 

For Jesus, the crucified. 
So trusting my all to thy tender care. 

And knowing thou lovest me, 
I'll do thy will with a heart sincere, 
I'll be what you want me to be!" 

(Mary Brown.) 

59 



CHAPTER V 
THE PATHWAY BETWEEN THE EOCKS 

Diamond Shoals, ten miles off Cape Hat- 
teras, are the dread of all seafaring men. 
Here, pounding on the rocks, many a good 
ship has gone to pieces. In a storm which 
was lashing the sea into a foam of furv and 
threatening destruction to every craft that 
ventured out into it, a vessel was beating it- 
self to death, like a bird striking its wings 
desperately against a wall of stone. Watch- 
ing through the night from their station on 
the Cape, the life-saving crew caught the flash 
of the danger signals sent up by the men of 
the wrecked traveler of the sea. 

In spite of the fact that the tempest was 
gaining in severity moment by moment, Cap- 
tain Etheridge gave orders to get out the life 
boat. For a moment the men looked at the 
breakers beating themselves into a suds, then 
turned their backs to the pitiless wind driving 
like a hurricane. 

w 



THE PATHWAY BETWEEN THE ROCKS 

"We cannot do it, Captain. It is madness 

to think of it!" 
So some one said. Another pleaded: 
^^Captain, think what yon are doing. Even 

if we could get the boat out and reach the 

ship, we never could get back!" 

The men knew by the sound of the Captain's 

voice that his mind was made up and there 

was no changing it. 

"Boys, we don't have to come back.^^ 

That was enough. The boat was launched. 

It reached the wreck. Every soul was saved. 

The life boat came back; and the world will 

never forget the words of Captain Etheridge — 

"Boys, we don't have to come back." 

No Coming Back 

In a narrow defile over against which stood 
Michmash and Gibeah, Jonathan, the son of 
Saul, had taken his station. Grim and for- 
bidding on one side towered the cliffs of Sineh, 
while on the other hand loomed the peaks of 
the rock Bozez. To a man less intrepid than 
Jonathan those crags might have seemed in- 
surmountable. Who could scale the heights 
of Sineh, "the acacia"? Would it be possible 
for the surest-footed climber in all Israel ever 

61 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

to mount to the summit of Bozez, "the shin- 
ing''? 

If any such misgiving existed in the heart 
of the young prince, not a word of it escapes 
his lips. We may almost hear him say, ^^It 
can be done, and I will do it." 

When did Jonathan conceive the idea of 
scaling those rocks? Had he slipped out of 
his father's camp some night and by the shim- 
mering moonlight watched the enemies of his 
people as they clambered in single file by some 
tangled path up the side of Bozez or the thorn- 
guarded steeps of Sineh? Had some trusty 
servitor brought him news that the Philistines 
had intrenched themselves on that apparently 
inaccessible height? We cannot tell. But we 
do know that Jonathan must have realized 
the danger which might await the army of 
his father were not the enemy dislodged from 
that well-nigh impregnable position. Some- 
how it must be done, and he determined that 
he would do it. 

But where was the king of Israel, that he 
should not be the one to undertake this bold 
adventure? 

The sacred narrative tells us this: "In the 
uttermost part of Gibeah," under a pome- 

62 



THE PATHWAY BETWEEN THE ROCKS 

granate tree, Saul was crouching with his 
little band of six hundred. This was all that 
was left of the three thousand with which the 
king set out. Picked men they all had been; 
but things had gone badly with Saul. Philis- 
tia's "thirty thousand chariots, six hundred 
horsemen and people as the sand of the sea- 
shore'' had been too much for him. His de- 
feat in battle had not been the worst thing to 
befall the first king of Israel. Thus early in 
his career, the leader so eagerly sought by all 
the people who expected so much of him — 
thus early had he been discredited by Jehovah. 
Crowned by the saintly Samuel himself, 
chosen under the direction of God, with so 
much of opportunity before him and the hopes 
of a nation back of him, he was even now 
smarting from the sting of a rebuke such as 
no man less sensitive than Saul could ever 
fully appreciate. How awful must have 
seemed the words of the good old prophet, 
wrung from pale and quivering lips ! 

"Thou hast done foolishly: thou hast not 
kept the commandment of the Lord thy God, 
which he commanded thee : for now would the 
Lord have established thy kingdom upon 
Israel forever. But now" — O the pity of those 

63 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

words! — ^^now thy kingdom shall not con- 
tinue : the Lord hath sought him a man after 
his own heart, and the Lord hath commanded 
him to be captain over his people, because thou 
hast not kept that which the Lord commanded 
thee/' 

How like the knell of the death of hope that 
must have sounded to Saul! And here he 
was, under the pomegranate tree with his six 
hundred — so few, and yet what might not the 
king have done with that handful of men? 
Had not Gideon won great victories with half 
as many? All that was lacking was an obedi- 
ent spirit. What if the only swords in all 
Israel were those under the hands of Saul and 
his son Jonathan? What if every other sol- 
dier in the army must fight with clubs and 
ox-goads brought from the fields when the 
king sent his call for men ringing over the 
hills and valleys of the land? If the heart 
be right, lamps and pitchers become as the 
sword of the Lord. Ox-goads and sticks cut 
from the slenderest sapling are changed into 
flails with which to thresh the foe as the man 
of the field beats the wheat from the straw at 
harvest time. 

On his face, turned into a coward by his 

64 



THE PATHWAY BETWEEN THE ROCKS 

sorrow, it must be that the king did not know 
when his son crept out of the camp, accom- 
panied by his armor-bearer, taking his way 
straight back to the rocks of Bozez and Sineh, 
a mighty purpose stirring his heart to its very 
depths. 

When was it that the sublime consciousness 
came to this lion-hearted young man that if 
his people were true, the Lord God would 
battle for those he loved? How did he come 
to have the assurance that fidelity on the part 
of Israel was all that would be necessary to 
bring victory? What led him to think that 
he himself had been called of Jehovah for this 
desperate venture? Was it somewhere out in 
the darkness when he had bowed low before 
God in prayer, his face wet with the night 
dews, not more surely than by the tears he 
shed? Calling mightily that Jehovah might 
not utterly forsake his own, did the conviction 
come over him that he was to be the instru- 
ment through which success was to be 
achieved? We may not know, but sure it is 
that many a Jacob has won on his knees vic- 
tory for himself and for his people. 

It would seem that he was for a time not 
quite sure where the glimmerings of his faith 

65 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

would lead him. With something of modest 
hesitation we hear him saying to his attend- 
ant : "Come, and let us go over unto the garri- 
son of these uncircumeised : it may be that 
the Lord will work for us: for there is no 
restraint to the Lord to save by many or by 
few.'^ And Jonathan's armor-bearer, what- 
ever may have been the misgiving of his own 
mind, stoutly expresses his confidence in the 
ability of the young leader : "Do all that is in 
thine heart. . . . behold, I am with thee, ac- 
cording to thy heart." 

True-hearted friend of the unknown name! 
What could not every Jonathan do with such 
a man at his side ! 

BOZEZ AND SiNEH 

Over there towered Bozez and Sineh. Look- 
ing up the steeps of those apparently inacces- 
sible rocks, the one fronting the other, what 
else did Jonathan see? The red-handed men 
of Philistia? Bare and slippery cliffs? Only 
the difficulties which lay in the way? Yes, 
but more he saw. Not one of these things 
rose inch-high with this man of the trusting 
heart. He saw God. More and more sure 
became the faith of Jonathan as he fought his 



THE PATHWAY BETWEEN THE ROCKS 

way up the circuitous pathway. Hear him 
now^ as at last he pulls himself up on his 
hands and knees, his loyal companion pressing 
tight upon his heels : ^^Come up after me ; for 
the Lord hath delivered them into the hand 
of Israel/^ Again we catch the spirit of brave 
Captain Etheridge looking into the eye of the 
storm that awful night off Cape Hatteras: 
"Boys, we don't have to come back/' 

And up there on the top of the rock, where 
there was scarcely room for two score men to 
get a foothold, Jonathan and his armor-bearer 
fought out the battle which sent a "great 
trembling" through the ranks of the Philis- 
tines and scattered them in dismay to the four 
winds of the heavens. Like snow on a hot 
summer's day the multitude melted before the 
onslaught of their God-girded opponents. "So 
the Lord saved Israel that day." 

Upon Hands and Knees 

Life is wonderfully sweet to-day. We are 
so happy. We are winning our way to honor. 
Friends love us. Fortune pours its treasures 
lavishly into our lap. Our pathway lies through 
flower-bedecked meadows. Still waters lave 
the shores of our souls. It seems to us we 

67 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

can feel the touch of the Shepherd's hand on 
ours. A bountiful table is spread for us. The 
house of the Lord is our dwelling place. Are 
we not blessed of God? Yesterday was not 
less full of joy than is to-day. Surely, the 
morrow will be just as much so ! Let the heart 
break forth into song! 

"My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed : 
I will sing and give praise. Awake up, my 
glory ; awake, psaltery and harp : I myself will 
awake early. I will praise thee, O Lord, among 
the people: I will sing unto thee among the 
nations. For thy mercy is great unto the 
heavens, and thy truth unto the clouds. Be 
thou exalted, O God, above the heavens: let 
thy glory be above all the earth.'' 

Still in higher strain lift the heart's song 
of rejoicing: 

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; 
whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength 
of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When 
the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes 
came upon me to eat up my flesh, they 
stumbled and fell. Though an host should 
encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: 
though wars should arise against me, in this 
will I be confident." 

68 



THE PATHWAY BETWEEN THE ROCKS 

But, hark! there is a knock at the door of 
the heart, and a messenger — God's messenger 
— who has come on the wings of the wind, 
stands at the threshold with a cry on his 
eager lips: ^The outposts have been taken! 
Make haste! Thy soul is in danger !'' It is 
ea^y now to smile at the fear which has over- 
taken conscience, God's beloved evangel. ^^Be 
not affrighted, O Conscience, thou art de- 
ceived. O friend of the battling soul, there 
is no danger here ! See how the world smiles 
upon me! Be still, sleep on, let me go on in 
my dreaming!" 

And the faithful monitor shrinks back into 
the shadows, stabbed by the hand of the one 
it tries to shield. The sin-deceived heart — 
your heart and mine — turns back to its 
revelry, until at last evil crouches at the very 
doorsill. We are hemmed in and lost. Now 
we know that Belshazzar's feast has been 
going on in the temple of our lives: with 
impious hands we have brought the sacred 
vessels from the house of God and turned them 
to the basest of uses. The Philistines have 
come into possession of the inmost citadel of 
our souls ! Gone the flower-spangled fields in 
which we used to stray ! For us the peaceful 

69 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

valley has been changed into a canon so deep 
and so dark that we can no longer see the 
face of the Good Shepherd! What now is 
left us? What save the bitter cry of King 
David : 

^^Let this be the reward of mine adversaries 
from the Lord, and of them that speak evil 
against my soul. But do thou for me, O God 
the Lord, for thy name's sake: because thy 
mercy is good, deliver thou me. For I am 
poor and needy, and my heart is wounded 
within me. I am gone like the shadow when 
it declineth : I am tossed up and down as the 
locust. My knees are weak through fasting; 
and my flesh f aileth of fatness. I became also 
a reproach unto them : when they looked upon 
me they shaked their heads. Help me, O Lord 
my God: O save me according to thy mercy. 
That they may know that this is thy hand; 
that thou, Lord, hast done it." 

Surely, this is Bozez and Sineh, and the 
enemies of our souls are in possession of the 
heights. Which way now, O my soul? Shall 
it be the far border, the pomegranate tree and 
shame? Shall I let my soul be eaten out with 
remorse ^^O'er sins indulged while conscience 
slept''? Or shall I strike out in the strength 

70 



THE PATHWAY BETWEEN THE KOCKS 

of my Lord upon the thorn-tangled path that 
leads to the summit? There shall I not fight 
the battle of my life, until I have defeated 
and driven away forever all the dark and piti- 
less foes which have so long beset me — pride, 
and selfishness, and passion, and wickedness 
of every name and nature? Shall mine be the 
story of a sin-conquered Saul or of a true- 
hearted Jonathan, battling on with the sword 
of the Spirit and the shield of righteousness, 
sure that Jesus Christ is my great Armor- 
Bearer and that he will not let me fail of 
victory? 

Let me now remember that it was on his 
hands and knees that the son of the king made 
his way upward through the thorns and the 
briers. So would I too begin my great quest 
upward toward my victory and thee! Bring 
me, O my Saviour, down very low before thee, 
that some day I may share in thine exaltation ! 
On my very face let me get back the faith sin 
has blighted, the hope lost through hours of 
bitterest weeping, the courage slain by days 
and nights of yielding to shameful pleasures ! 

Then once more, strong in the strength of 
God, let me fight on, so that ere the night falls 
and the bugle call comes to blow out the lights 

71 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOOK 

for the night, I may be able to say, "So the 
Lord saved Israel that day/' Thus may I 
strike my harp to David's nobler strain : 

^^Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye 
lands. Serve the Lord with gladness: come 
before his presence with singing. . * . For the 
Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and 
his truth endureth to all generations.'' 



72 



CHAPTER VI 
GRAVEN IN THE ROOK FOREVER 

"Is there anything I can do for you, my 
boy?'' 

It is the captain. He is standing at the side 
of a wounded soldier. His hand is on the fore- 
head of the stricken man, and he knows not 
more surely by the damp on the pale brow 
than by the shadow settling over the face that 
it will soon be too late for the one who has 
given the best and all there is in him for his 
country to leave any message for the loved 
ones at home. 

"Yes, captain.'' The face lights up and the 
eyes come open a little way. "I'm so glad you 
asked me. I would like to send one more little 
word home. You wouldn't want to write it 
for me, would you? I wrote to my mother 
just as long as I could, and I know she will 
miss my letters.'' 

"Sure, old fellow ! I'll do it for you. Tell 
me just what you would like me to say to her." 

73 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

The eyes close once more. Memory is slip- 
ping back through the years. The captain's 
eyes cannot see it, but he knows that a vision 
of home is filling the room. Out from the 
soldier's heart now comes the message — the 
last word of a dying boy to his mother. 

^Tell her I never have been sorry she taught 
me to say, ^Now I lay me down to sleep.' It 
has been in my heart all these years. Tell her 
I thank her for it. Now that I'm lying down 
to sleep, I know He will keep my soul.'' 

The pen wrote on, setting down the words 
the mother-love had been all these years writ- 
ing in the soul of the martyred soldier. 

Writing! Writing I Writing! Man is born 
with an instinct to write, to set down his 
thoughts so that they may be seen and read 
by those who come after him. 

Deep in the earth above buried cities the 
spade of the explorer finds proof of this long- 
ing on the part of us all to leave some lasting 
record of what has been said and thought and 
done. And it sometimes seems as if the deeper 
men dig, the more numerous are the tracings 
of the pen wielded by the dwellers upon earth 
in the long ago. In caves and high on rocky 
cliffs; on the dust-covered rocks of age-old 

74 



GEAVEN IN THE ROCK FOREVER 

cities of Egypt; on the cylinders and vases 
and stone slabs of Babylon, Assyria, and 
Persia; on the ruined temples of South 
America and Mexico, and in the depths of the 
mysterious heaps of earth lifted up by the 
mound builders of pur own country, we find 
expressions of the same yearning to put in 
permanent form for future generations the 
thoughts which have stirred the souls of those 
who wrote. We all think and hope and dream 
and are not satisfied unless we can pass on 
to those who will be here when we are gone 
the story of our thoughts and our hopes and 
our dreams. 

How varied are the themes of those who 
wrote in the long ago ! Now it is some scrap 
of personal attainment; now the story of the 
achievements of some king or nation ; now the 
record of the laws of some people or of the 
conquest of some soldier. Again the tale is 
of God's dealings with men ; and it is all ac- 
cording to the experience of those who wrote 
for posterity. 

Writing ! Writing ! Writing ! Writing with 
pen or with hammer and chisel of steel, with 
many instruments on many kinds of material ; 
on rock, on wood, on papyrus, on cylinders of 

76 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

clay, on tablet and beautiful pottery and on 
homely fragments of iron or copper or bronze 
— in all ways ^nd in every way man has 
evinced his desire, yes, his determination not 
to be forgotten. 

But it was not of law or history or philoso- 
phy that the man of Uz longed to write. Lis- 
ten to him as he lifts himself out of the dust 
and ashes of his life-sorrow: ^^Oh that my 
words were now written! oh that they were 
printed in a book! That they were graven 
with an iron pen and lead in the rock for- 
ever !" 

What was it Job so passionately longed to 
say to the ages to come? Was it the story of 
his own life? He had done many things well 
worthy of passing on to future generations. 
His whole life had been one of great achieve- 
ments. 

^^His substance also was seven thousand 
sheep, and three thousand camels, and five 
hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she 
asses, and a very great household ; so that this 
man was the greatest of all the men of the 
east.'' 

Many sons and daughters had been given 
to him. He had been honored by his fellow 

76 



GRAVEN IN THE EOCK FOREVER 

men. He had the testimony of God himself 
that he was ^ ^perfect and upright, and one that 
feared God, and eschewed evil.'^ Best of all, 
in spite of the downward tug of prosperity, 
in the face of the fact that Satan himself had 
tried to move Job to set his face against 
Jehovah, still God says, ^^he holdeth fast his 
integrity.'' 

So that it might appear that the highest 
aspiration of Job would be, now that it seemed 
as if time for him had come to an end, to 
leave in some permanent form the story of his 
personal accomplishments. Would not the 
world in days to come be helped and stirred 
to greater activity by reading such a record? 
If it had been you or I who had been voicing 
our last message, we probably would have 
said: ^^ Write it down with a pen of iron on 
the face of the rock that I made my way up 
out of poverty to wealth. Say that I was in 
the beginning the humblest of all men, but I 
rose from the ranks ; I sat at the gates of the 
city ; I was honored ; young men did me rever- 
ence and old men rose and stood up in my 
presence. I was a father to the poor. I was 
eyes to the blind and feet was I to the lame. 
God hath truly blessed me. ^His candle shined 

77 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

upon my head, and by his light I walked 
through the darkness.' '' Ah, that was a life 
story of which any of us might well be proud ! 
Men of far more meager attainments have 
chiseled the record of their work in rock and 
on steel. But it was not of any of these things 
that Job was now thinking. Away from all 
the petty things of earth were his thoughts 
sweeping. What were earthly fame and honor 
when compared with the glorious hope which 
gripped his mind, the magnificent swing of 
the faith which bore him Godward in this 
moment of transcendent interest? This is 
what the man of TJz would have set down so 
that it would never fade out of the memory 
of men : "I know that my redeemer liveth, and 
that he shall stand at the latter day upon the 
earth. And though after my shin worms de- 
stroy this hody^ yet in my flesh shall I see God. 
Whom I shall see for myself^ and mine eyes 
shall behold^ and not another/^ 

Glorious certainty — grand beyond all power 
of description! Sure revelation of God! 
Blessed the man who can look beyond all the 
little worries and frets of this earthly life and 
even in an hour like this, when the body is 
racked with pain and suffering so that they 

78 



GRAVEN IN THE ROCK FOREVER 

seem to be doing their very worst, and find 
comfort in a truth that takes hold upon 
eternity itself. 

It was that this great central truth of all 
religious faith might be graven on the rocks 
that Job longed with all his heart. And God 
has given his yearnings more sure record than 
could possibly be chiseled with pen of iron 
on tablet of stone. Some day the breath of 
time will blow across the rocks and they will 
crumble into ashes. The day will come when 
every tablet of bronze, pure though it may be, 
will melt and go back to its first state. The 
finger of God will touch papyrus and cylinder 
and tablet of granite and they will be gone. 
But the word of God is sure ; and in his heart 
of hearts man will cling to this revelation of 
the resurrection. 

And, after all, it is the heart which most 
firmly grips the truths of God. Did not the 
children of Israel know this? Jehovah him- 
self had whispered it to them while yet they 
were sojourners in the wilderness. They 
were, indeed, to carve his laws on wood and 
stone and brass; but more than that: "Thou 
shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, 
and they shall be as frontlets between thine 

79 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

eyes. And thon shalt write them upon the 
posts of thy house and on thy gates.'' 

And knowing that one day the frontlets 
might be stripped away, worn to threads by 
time, that the posts of the doors must some 
time fall into dust and the gates yield to the 
destroying hand of the ages, he urged — nay, 
he commanded — the fathers to write his man- 
dates where they would endure when all else 
fell into decay: ^^And thou shalt teach them 
diligently unto thy children, and thou shalt 
talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, 
and when thou walkest by the way, and when 
thou liest down, and when thou risest up.'' 

Well to cut them deep in wood and rock 
and diamond; but no pen of finest gold can 
write them so deeply that they will endure till 
the morn of God's coming. Write it on the 
heart and it will outlast time and even eternity 
itself. 

"I know that my redeemer liveth! I shall 
see God." 



80 



CHAPTER VII 
THE EAGLE'S ABIDING PLACE 

It had been years since the old eagle had 
tried to lift a wing. Taken captive while 
fighting hard to defend its nest away in the 
heights of the mountain, it had been brought 
down to a quiet country home and chained 
so that it could only move about in a narrow 
circle. 

All its wants had been supplied. The young 
people had been good and kind to it, and the 
eagle seemed to have lost through the years 
of its confinement most of its old wild nature. 
It appeared to be content to walk about in its 
narrow circle, and at last it lost much of the 
stateliness which had once marked its de- 
meanor. Even the fire in its eye grew dim. 
It seemed no longer to dream of the sky and 
its far-oflf eyrie among the cliffs. For a long 
time it had not been seen to flutter its wings 
as if for a flight heavenward. Those who 
cared for it thought it must have really for- 

81 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

gotten its old home. Somehow this thought 
made them glad, for it had been heartbreaking 
in the past to watch the bird as it chafed in 
its prison. 

A change came into the life of the man who 
had so long kept the old eagle a captive. He 
was soon to go away across the country to a 
new home. He wondered what he had better 
do with his old friend of the mountain height. 
Would any one else care for the bird as he 
had done? It did not seem wise to try to take 
the eagle with him so far. He might not out- 
live such a change. So it was deemed best 
to set the bird at liberty. On the day chosen 
for this the keeper asked some of the neighbors 
to come and watch with him the actions of 
the long-imprisoned king of the sky. Then 
he unfastened the chain which had so long 
been fastened to the eagle's leg. For a mo- 
ment the great bird kept its place, uncon- 
scious of the freedom which had come to it. 
With its head still deep sunken in the feathers 
of its neck, it hovered there with half-shut 
eyes, as if dreaming of something very pleas- 
ant. 

The keeper touched the eagle with his hand 
gently and tried to urge it to move beyond 

82 



THE EAGLE'S ABIDING PLACE 

the well-worn limit of its chain. Thus in- 
spired, the bird slowly stepped out a little 
way, but when it came to the border of its old 
circle it stopped, as if it still felt the tugging 
of the chain on its ankle. Once the steel fet- 
ters had worn its limb sore ; now the hurt was 
deeper — the spirit of the monarch of the 
heavens had been wounded. It could not but 
feel the pull of the little chain upon its limbs. 
Round and round the hard-beaten circle it 
went, just as it had done for many a year. 
A sense of pity came over those who stood 
watching the bird in its seeming impotence. 
Was it indeed too helpless to fly? Had it 
really lost its love of the far-away mountain 
peaks? Had captivity paralyzed its limbs 
and robbed it of its power to accept freedoip, 
as well as its love of the old nesting place? 

Suddenly the bird shook out its long un- 
used wings, first one and then the other, 
stretching them far out. A new light came 
into the eye which a moment ago was so dull ! 
Up toward the blue it turned its gaze, as if 
searching for something long lost. Crouching 
low to the earth for a moment, the bird lifted 
itself for flight. But captivity had done its 
work: the muscles were all weak and sore 

83 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

from disuse. The eagle sank back; still, the 
fire did not go from its eyes. Again and again 
it summoned every power for the journey sky- 
ward. Each time there seemed to be more of 
strength. Higher and higher became the 
flight. Then with a glad cry the bird mounted 
and soared away — up, up, up, lost at last 
beyond the reach of human sight! 

Power Lost 

"Only an eagle !'^ do we say? And yet, how 
like to your life and mine! There are times 
when we rejoice to think that we are living 
far up the heights, out of the reach of danger. 
What can harm us here? Like the eagle, we 
fancy we have made our nest under the 
shadow of the Almighty ! 

Listen to God as he pictures to his servant 
Job the instinct of this bird of the sunshine 
to wing her way just as far heavenward as she 
can, and there make her home: "Doth the 
eagle mount up at thy command, and make 
her nest on high? She dwelleth and abide th 
on the rock, upon the crag of the rock, and 
the strong place." From this lofty eyrie "her 
eyes behold afar off.'' From higher flight to 
still loftier soaring we too scale the peaks of 

84 



THE EAGLE'S ABIDING PLACE 

this earthly life until we seem to have reached 
the very summit of heavenly experience. 
There we settle down to make our abiding 
place. Surely, here we are safe. What can 
disturb us now? Our eyes behold afar off. 
We grow proud. All the world is under our 
feet. Up here is God — God and we. 

Then something comes to awaken us from 
our dreaming. Just now it seemed to us that 
we were living so close to God that nothing 
could ever come between us and him. Our 
dreams were being worked out into realities, 
like tapestries under the skilled hand of the 
weaver. When hope's song had reached its 
very highest note, when honor and love and 
all earthly blessings seemed to be fairly 
tumbling out of our over-filled arms, all at 
once, as if one had hurled a jagged rock 
against the strings of a beautiful harp, our 
visions became blurred, our peace was riven 
asunder, our aspirations hurled down and 
crushed. What has done it? 

Was it God who tore the nest to pieces and 
slipped the fetters about our wrists? God 
who flung us into this crucible? God who 
struck the cords of our lute? No, it cannot 
be so. God stands in heaven's doorway, point- 

8& 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROOK 

ing out to us the evil thing hovering so near 
to our home. Did we but turn our ears that 
way, we might hear his voice wooing us to 
^^Return unto me, O ye people/' But we will 
not, so the nest is stripped from its pretty 
nook on the side of the rock. 

O how the poppies do charm us, so that we 
do not see the richer, fairer blossoms 'which 
grow along life's pathway! What is this lure 
of sin, that it should blind our eyes to the 
danger lurking a few steps ahead and lead 
us to forget heaven itself? 

God hurting us? Why, God puts his hand 
out to shield us from the blows he knows are 
coming. He would stay us if he could ! Some- 
times there is pain in the touch of his hand 
stretched across our way, but he doth not 
willingly aflBict ! Not because he would cause 
us to suffer does he let the shadow fall, but 
because he cannot say we shall not do the 
thing we would. We plunge headlong into 
evil ; then, looking around for the cause of our 
pain, we see God and charge him with having 
brought the suffering which has stricken us 
down; and all the while he is there only to 
help and to cheer and to save if we will but 
let him do it. 

86 



THE EAGLE'S ABIDING PLACE 

Close by our side lie walks when the clouds 
of trouble, lifted up out of the ocean by the 
heat of our own passion and heavy with storm, 
hang dark over our souls. He may not keep 
the tears back — tears are sometimes good for 
the soul — but he does put out his hand to 
wipe our sorrow away. Dewdrops fall on the 
cheek of the lily; God lends warmth to the 
sunshine and the mist is kissed away. Our 
eyes are dim with tears of penitence; God 
touches them with his finger of love and they 
disappear. Our feet are set hard toward the 
red road to death; God lets the thorns prick 
us till the blood runs, and when we stop and 
look and listen, he heals the wound and makes 
the narrow way thrice happier than we found 
the broad highway of sin to be. 

And so it is that evil comes into the nest 
of the mountain height. No more for us the 
dazzling peaks of heavenly happiness; never 
again the calm resting among the sunlit sum- 
mits of the Rock. In a moment the nest is 
broken up and we are hurled back to earth. 
Here we are, chained down to tread the little 
circle drawn for us by the fetters of sin, never 
again to rise above the dust and the grime. 
Here we grovel, our wings soiled and weak- 

87 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

ened for the skyward flight and becoming 
more so day by day. So tired of it all, so 
sick of sin, so cheated, so crippled, so helpless 
— and all because we did not abide, aye, abide 
under the shadow of the Almighty ! 

Up Toward the Blue Again 

But must we always stay with our feet fast 
in the mire? Must we trail our wings, which 
might be bathing in the sunlight of God 
always, in the filth of this world? 

^^I am going to meet a little company of 
young girls now, Nancy. I would like to take 
them some word from you. What shall it be?^^ 

Nancy's head droops. Standing there on 
the other side of the bars of her prison cell, 
a tear finds its way down her cheek. When 
she lifts her face to look into the kindly eyes 
of the visitor she says: ^Tell them that the 
wages of sin is death. One can never escape 
the penalty of wrongdoing, even a very little 
wrong. Some day that sin will surely find 
us out.^^ 

May we not weave about Nancy Wellesley 
this story — a story as old as sin is old? 

Never had a girl a better home than she. 
Up among the pine trees of a State among the 

S8 



THE EAGLE'S ABIDING PLACE 

lakes, her father had made his home when his 
daughter was a wee lassie. It was a sunny 
home. Nancy lacked for no good thing. All 
that her father and mother believed to be for 
her best interest she received from their in- 
dulgent hands. Under the whispering trees 
she could lie on the leaves and read and think 
and dream the hours away. Surely, here was 
a nest in the side of a rock. 

Why could not that lovely home have been 
safe from the serpent? Have we not often 
asked that when we thought of the garden of 
paradise, and found no other answer than that 
God knoweth? But he does know. That is 
enough. 

One day the girl with the pure heart went 
out of the home nest. It was a going that sent 
the arrow of sorrow deep into the hearts of 
the father and mother left behind. They had 
carried their loved one in their heart of hearts 
and no dream of danger ever had come to their 
unsuspecting souls. But that going brought 
Nancy a stained soul, a life as black as mid- 
night. 

Nancy Wellesley became a gambler. A 
woman gambler? We turn with loathing 
from a man who devotes his God-given powers 

89 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

to a profession so base; but the whole soul 
revolts from the thought of a woman debasing 
herself to such a depth, till her soul is all 
draggled over with other crimson sins of 
shame and passion. Up and down the world 
she went, luring men to their ruin on rail- 
ways, on steamboats, anywhere, everywhere. 
It was a wicked, sin-cursed, blighted way, and 
Nancy trod it to the very lowest depths. 

At first the stories of their daughter which 
went back to the quiet home among the pines 
stunned the poor old father and mother. 
Could it be that this was Nancy, their darling 
Nancy! What was this awful shadow which 
had come over them thus late in life? There 
by their home fireside the two sat, broken- 
hearted, hand in hand, looking into the flicker- 
ing embers, their very souls crying out for 
sorrow. 

O, if there is any deeper agony of spirit than 
that which comes with the thought that the 
boy or the girl who has been so loved — ^loved 
by the mother even down into the valley of 
the shadow, loved by the father up to the very 
highest peaks of sacrifice — in the name of God, 
what is it? O prodigal son, O prodigal daugh- 
ter, for the sake of thine own soul, for the 

90 



THE EAGLE'S ABIDING PLACE 

sake of the Saviour who died for thee on the 
cross, the bitter, bitter cross of Calvary, all 
for thee, for the sake of the dear ones who are 
letting their hearts bleed out drop by drop 
for thee, stop! Stop, for just one little mo- 
ment and think of the father and mother back 
home. Listen until thou hearest their lives 
dripping, dripping, dripping out to death for 
thee. Come to thyself once more. The husks 
are so dead and dry and the nights out on 
the moor so cold. Arise, leave the swine- 
fields and find thy way back home. There 
father and mother are waiting, waiting in the 
doorway, watching, hoping, praying for their 
dear one — for thee. 

The father of Nancy went from the home 
among the lakes, hoping almost against hope 
that somewhere he might find the one who 
was lost. It was a fruitless quest: she had 
lost — she must have lost — her love for the old 
home and the things which used to make her 
so happy. On and on and on she went down 
the blistering road. The father and mother 
grieved their hearts out and died. The friends 
she had known turned against her. Life was 
only one long midnight round of sin and 
shame and loss. Loss? What else can a life 

91 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

like that bring? It may be covered up for 
a little while behind a smile, but in the secret 
place, when no one but God is near to see and 
to know, the soul that has thus sold itself 
under bondage to sin turns with disgust from 
all the flimsy things once hugged so closely, 
and blinding tears surely do fall. 

And the net, the pitiless net of sin, steadily 
drew its cords about Nancy Wellesley. When 
they had been tightened to the last half-inch, 
there she sat in the gloom of a felon's cell. 
Deserted, alone. Deserted, alone? No, not 
yet! Jesus Christ never lets it come to that 
with the worst of us! 

Cutting the Links of the Chain 

And that word, spoken by the friend through 
the meshes of the steel which held Nancy 
Wellesley, proved to be the thing which cut 
the links of the chain which bound her ! With 
all the love and the tenderness of a conse- 
crated life, the young woman went from 
Nancy to the little company of girls to whom 
she was to speak, and she told them why that 
message had come to them out of the darkness 
of the prison. Tears fell from many an eye 
that day. 

^2 



THE EAGLE'S ABIDING PLACE 

Then one of the sweetest of them all^ with 
the lovelight of Jesus shining in her face, 
asked : "Don't you suppose we could love her 
back to God?'' 

It was a heaven-sent thought. All in a 
body they went. They crept up close to 
Nancy; they kissed the tears away from her 
cheeks; they twined their arms about her 
neck ; they told her the story of the love of the 
Christ, the love that reaches to the uttermost, 
and they did not let her go until love had 
wrought its sweet way in the life that had 
been withered and blasted! 

The agle had been set free. It winged its 
way back to the top of the rock. 



93 



CHAPTER VIII 
THE SOUL'S SURE FOOTING 

How true it is that every poor, hunted 
creature of this earth, when hope languishes 
and the chance of escape seems desperate, 
turns to the high places for safety. Even 
when no enemy the eye can see is near, if we 
set a flock of sheep at liberty on the low lands, 
if the ways are open, it will not be long before 
they will be away upon the heights. It is as 
if they knew somehow that the air is purer 
up there and life more secure. 

"Have you seen the sheep to-day, laddie ?^^ 
So the shepherd farmer asks his boy. And 
w^hen the answer is, "No, father, I have not,'' 
as if by instinct the next word is, "We will 
look for them in the hill pasture beyond the 
wood, laddie.'' And almost always the mother 
sheep, with their little ones, are there, feeding 
peacefully on the sweet clover and resting at 
noonday in the shelter of the big sugar maples. 

94 



THE SOUL'S SURE FOOTING 

In a way they surely understand, God has 
told them that the upper reaches are best. 

"God bless all who come in and go out." 
So runs the inscription over the entrance to 
the Castle of Ohillon, nestling on its isolated 
point of rock by Lake Geneva, in Switzerland. 
Now, centuries after it was built, this massive 
pile stands as one of the finest specimens of 
mediaeval architecture in all Europe. Out of 
the solid rock was cut the moat for this cone- 
towered castle. So the place was turned into 
a little island. Nine hundred years have 
wrought many changes in the castle itself. 
Those who once took refuge in it — ^knights, 
servitors, cavaliers and ladies — all are gone 
now. The walls are moss-covered and ivy- 
grown. Blue bells droop in clusters from 
every crack and crevice : but the rock remains. 
We forget the dark scenes upon which these 
gray walls have looked and think only of the 
refuge the grand old rock has afforded to the 
hunted men and women of the long ago. 

Daring hearts had the strange people who 
in some day, now in the dim and distant past, 
clambered up the almost perpendicular cliffs 
of our own western country and made their 
home. Three hundred feet up such a height, 

95 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

explorers have found in Arizona a deserted 
village of the old-time cliff dwellers. Who 
knows their story? Were they sore beset by 
foes, so that there was no more safety in the 
lower levels? Did they find the safety they 
sought up there in the side of the rocks? 
What ever became of these fugitives who fled 
from the valley to the heights of the rock up 
yonder? We love to think of them nestling 
up there, living, loving, hoping, dreaming in 
the clefts of the rock ! 

Established of God 

It may be that it was at almost the same 
time w^hen the men of the American cliffs were 
perching in their hiding places that David 
was singing of his own sure refuge thousands 
of miles away, on the other side of the world. 

It had been a time of stress for the young 
shepherd king. Without any seeking u^on his 
part, David had been called from the upland 
pastures to be fitted for wider service. 
Already had he been anointed by Samuel, the 
faithful servant of the Lord, with sacred oil 
brought for that express purpose from the 
tabernacle at Nob. Already had Saul felt the 
sting of the prophet's words, ^^Thou art re- 



THE SOULVS SURE FOOTING 

jected of God." Already had the younger man 
of the sheepcote been summoned to the house 
of the king, in the hope that by the charm 
of his harp he might drive away the frenzy of 
the fitful-minded Saul. Already had he es- 
caped death by not more than a hair's breadth 
at the hand of the mad king, when the shaft 
went whistling past his head to stick in the 
wall. 

There being no longer any doubt that it was 
the determination of the king to take his life, 
David knew that he must flee; but where 
could he hide? Would he be safe anywhere 
from the unreasonable jealousy of the king? 
Away to the hills of Philistia David made his 
retreat. He did not go alone. Fearing the 
insane wrath of Saul, the father and mother 
of David went with their son. Then, too, many 
daring spirits, not in favor with the king, 
found their way to the fastnesses of the border 
country, that they might have the leadership 
and the protection of David. And there, in 
a cave five hundred feet up the side of the 
mountain, shut away from the world, David 
waited calmly and with wonderful reliance 
upon God the next great step in the unfolding 
of Jehovah's plan for him — waiting in the 

97 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

loneliness, waiting in the dark, waiting for 
God's voice to call out of the shadows. 

Waiting for the Lord 

It is not always easy to wait for God's sure 
leading. How well do I remember a day of 
sitting still that God might show me the way ! 
I was a young man then, standing at life's 
crossroads. One way seemed to lead out into 
the deepest uncertainties. I did not want to 
go that way. How apt we are to think the 
line of least resistance is the course we ought 
to take ! The other way, a little ray of light, 
like a sunbeam sheared from the great orb of 
day, shimmered through the darkness. That 
w^as the path I longed to take. But was it 
God's way for me? 

I know what my mother would have done. 
Many and many a time when the stars seemed 
to be stripped out of her sky and no daylight 
was left anywhere, she would sit with the 
Book. If I had looked over her shoulder then, 
I am sure I should have found that these were 
the words which were giving her the strength 
to wait: 

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; 
whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength 

98 



THE SOUL'S SURE FOOTING 

of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? . . . 
One thing have I desired of the Lord^ that 
will I seek after ; that I may dwell in the house 
of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold 
the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his 
temple.'' 

^To inquire in his temple'' ! That was what 
mother would have done in an hour of uncer- 
tainty. It was always her way to inquire in 
the temple of the Lord. But how should I 
do that? Here I was, speeding away across 
the country in a railway train. No temple 
here! Only the click and the rattle of the 
wheels bounding from rail to rail and the 
indistinct hum of the voices of my fellow pas- 
sengers. ^^To inquire in his temple" — how 
could I do that? I had then to learn that 
God's temple is in every place where a single 
soul waits for help. Then I thought of God's 
house as a place made with hands. Youth 
is not so quick to see God in field and forest, 
in mountain and valley, in rushing railway 
train; it sees him more clearly in massive 
walls or turreted cathedral, in the thunder 
of the cataract or the swelling of the ocean 
tides. There may the soul lean out and listen. 

But not always can it be so. It was not so 

99 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

with me that day. No cathedral, no visible 
house of God, no roaring Niagara, no altar 
at which I might kneel. And yet something 
did come upon me there, as with closed eyes 
and bowed head I tried to feel that God was 
near to me, something which calmed my fast- 
beating heart and gave me to see that he is 
everywhere, and always ready to lead him who 
places his soul in the care of the Almighty. 

As if I were not to question the next step 
in my life, I left the train at the nearest sta- 
tion and sent a message to one far away who 
would be able, could I get a response from 
him, to throw light over all my coming days. 

It was a quiet little wayside station at 
which I waited. I never had been there be- 
fore; probably I never will see it again. But 
it was the place where I met God, talked with 
him and he answered me. After the operator 
had ticked my message out across the world, 
I went out and walked up and down the rail- 
road all alone, almost holding my breath, all 
the time wondering what the answer would 
be, but sure that it would be God's best for me. 

Sometimes it seems to us that God takes 
a long time to shape his response to our 
prayers. We chafe, we grow impatient, we 

100 



THE SOUL'S SURE FOOTING 

begin to doubt. Why must it be so long? Two 
or three times I went back to the office and 
inquired if any word had come for me. Sev- 
eral hours went by that way. It began to 
appear that I must stay in that lonely place 
through the night, although I had hoped to 
take the next train on. I went out and prayed 
for patience. It seems to me now as if that 
whole day were a day of prayer. Ah ! through 
how many days and nights since then have I 
prayed and waited! 

But the message came. I did not doubt 
then, I do not doubt now, that it was straight 
from God. It changed all my way. It brought 
me unnumbered blessings, although it did 
close up for me the way I would have chosen 
— the way of the sunbeam's ray — and led me 
straight out into the shadows of uncertainty, 
which I had to follow for a long time before 
the light appeared. But the light did appear. 
God led me out upon a new way and set my 
feet in the road that was best for me. 

Of Good Courage ! 

I love to think of David up there in his 
mountain cave. It must have been a wonder- 
ful experience for the young man who had 

101 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

been brought up on the sunny uplands and 
the starlit pastures of Bethlehem. Out there 
were the sheep and the flowers and God. Here 
no flowers, not even the lambs of the flock. 
Could he be sure that God was here? Ah! 
David never asked that question. Listen as 
his soul breaks out in joyous praise and 
thanksgiving: ^Traise ye the Lord. Praise 
the Lord, O my soul. I will sing unto the 
Lord as long as I live: I will sing praise to 
my God while I have any being.'' How can 
you do it, David? Up there on the footpaths 
with no cloud in the sky, when life had no 
seamy side and hope sang a cheery song, it 
would not be hard to let the soul go out in 
such hymns of rejoicing. Easy now to think 
and to say, ^^The Lord is good; his mercy 
endureth forever.'' When the waves lap the 
shore gently and the wind dies away to a 
whisper, the storm is forgotten. All seems 
well. It is when the tempest is on the deep 
and dark billows dash mountain high that we 
hide our faces before Jehovah. It is heart- 
breaking storm now with David. But how is 
it with our uncrowned king, as he sits there 
amid the gloom of the cave? Surely now, if 
ever, his heart will think of God as a being 

102 



THE SOUL'S SUEE FOOTING 

awful in his majesty and fearful in his power. 
Now his songs will take on a sadder strain, 
breathing out something of the trouble which 
is racking the man's soul. Ah no, David ! I 
do but greatly misjudge thee. I am measuring 
thy spirit by my own short yardstick. Let 
me stand still now, and catch the notes of thy 
morning hymn, as it drifts to me from the 
depths of that shadow-dimmed cave of Adul- 
1am: 

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; 
whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength 
of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When 
the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, 
came upon me to eat up my flesh, they 
stumbled and fell. Though an host should 
encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: 
though war should rise against me, in this 
will I be confident. One thing have I desired 
of the Lord, that will I seek after ; that 1 may 
dwell in the house of the Lord, all the days 
of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, 
and to inquire in his temple. For in time of 
trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion; in 
the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me; 
he shall set me up upon a rock.'' 

Not a rift in the lute ! These surely are the 
103 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

outpourings of a heart filled to the full of joy 
and peace and trust. 

^^How canst thou thus sing, David, our 
king? Is not this a time for doubt and dread 
and fear? Thou singest of faith and hope and 
thanksgiving/' So may the men of that exile 
band have questioned their brave leader, press- 
ing close upon him and seeking to get some- 
thing of his cheer into their tired hearts. 

True and brave and earnest the response 
of the singer looking up into the faces of his 
followers by the flicker of the torches. "When 
my father and my mother forsake me, then the 
Lord will take me up. Wait on the Lord : be 
of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine 
heart : wait, I say, on the Lord.'' 

O thou brave singer of the undaunted heart, 
if we could but learn the sweetness, the help, 
the inspiration of those words, "Wait on the 
Lord"! We are so tired with our hurrying 
on ahead of God. How can we wait for him 
to bring us things for which we have been 
longing so many weary days and so many, 
many nights when our pillow has been wet 
with tears? We believe he will not let our 
prayers go unanswered, but it seems so long, 
so very, very long, to wait. The days fly 

104 



THE SOUL'S SURE FOOTING 

swifter than a weaver's shuttle ; and still they 
seem to creep away, so sore is our heart with 
its waiting! Sundown is almost here and no 
sign yet of the realization of the dream which 
has possessed us so long. 

Sing thy song to us once again, thou shep- 
herd harper of Israel ! Touch the strings with 
surer and ever more sure hand ! Oheer us and 
teach the blessedness of patient waiting. 

"Wait on the Lord." "They that wait upon 
the Lord shall renew their strength; they 
shall mount up with wings as eagles; they 
shall run, and not be weary; and they shall 
walk, and not faint.'' 



106 



CHAPTER IX 

HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

David, like most men, had his hours of de- 
pression. When we think of all that happened 
to him, of the slippery places into which his 
own passionate heart led him, we cannot won- 
der that days should come to him when his 
thoughts drifted into very gloomy channels, 
when the skies hung gray above him, and 
when the harp-notes of joy were changed for 
strains that were fairly piteous in their ca- 
dence. And then, too, the difficulties into which 
sin plunged the people of his kingdom some- 
times stirred the soul of the singer to hymns 
of pleading for forgiveness. It must be that 
it was in some such time as this that David 
penned the sixtieth psalm. Listen to the sob 
in his voice: "O God, thou hast cast us off, 
thou hast scattered us, thou hast been dis- 
pleased; O turn thyself to us again. Thou 
hast made the earth to tremble; thou hast 
broken it: heal the breaches thereof; for it 
shaketh. Thou hast showed thy people hard 

106 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

things: thou hast made us to drink the wine 
of astonishment." 

But it was not like David long to forget 
God's promises, and soon the heart of the 
psalmist turns to some of those which have in 
times gone by been a stay to his soul and kept 
his heart from breaking: "Give us help from 
trouble, for vain is the help of man. Through 
God we shall do valiantly: for he it is that 
shall tread down our enemies.'^ 

Higher and still higher the song rises : "Lead 
me to the rock that is higher than L'^ 

When Men Must Be Led 

Suffering from a disease which had been 
pronounced incurable, a poor heathen man 
heard of a missionary long miles away who 
was possessed of medical knowledge which 
would enable him to cure many otherwise 
hopeless cases. Feeling his way along in the 
dark, one day the poor man fell across the 
threshold of the physician, begging in a most 
pitiful way for help and recovery of sight. 
It was the same old cry which so often came 
to the ears of the Great Physician in the days 
of his flesh. He heard it on the road to Jericho, 
when the man of the sightless eyes called out, 

107 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

so desperately, "Lord, that I might receive 
my sight!'' It is the cry of thousands upon 
thousands going up to-day from the lips of 
men who have paid with their sight some part 
of the awful toll of the war across the sea. 
"O God, if I might but see once more!'' 

And the physician brought his skill to bear 
upon the sightless man of the heathen heart, 
so that the day came when he was able to go 
back with joy in his soul to his own people. 
In a little while a wonderful thing took place. 
Looking out of his window one day, the doctor 
saw coming down the road the most wonder- 
ful procession his eyes had ever beheld. Hold- 
ing fast to a long rope, scores of men were 
slowly making their way along the dusty high- 
way, straight toward his house. At their 
head, leading the way, was the man whose 
sight had been restored under God through 
the skill of the missionary doctor. When the 
long line at last came near enough so that the 
doctor could look into the faces of the men, 
he saw that every one of those who were hold- 
ing so tightly to that rope was blind ! He who 
had been healed had made his way back home 
and told the story of his restoration to sight, 
and all this multitude which had been grop- 

108 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

ing on in the shadows so long besought their 
friend to bring them to the doctor, that he 
might do for them what he had done with 
God's help for their neighbor. Blind! Need- 
ing some one to lead them to the light ! 

Leading and Led 

When the road is new we must have some 
one to show us which way to go. Over track- 
less ocean, through the deeps of the forest, 
across the ice of the polar seas, up the steeps 
of the snow-clad Alps, everywhere and always 
we need a guide. From life's end to life's 
end it seems as if God means that we shall 
feel and know the peace and the comfort 
which comes from putting the hand deep in 
the hand of another and saying to him : ^^I do 
not know the way. My feet never before have 
been this way. Lead me along this path lest 
I stray and be lost." And after we have 
learned the way, does not he want us to realize 
the joy there is in piloting somebody else? 
Is there any greater happiness given to mortal 
man than that which comes from bringing 
some dear one up the steeps of Calvary, on 
past the cross, farther still until we have 
passed the place where the dear Lord lay, and 

109 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

come to look through tears up into the face 
of the Redeemer— saved, ransomed, redeemed, 
a child of God? 

How Can We Do It? 

The way of service — what is it? How can 
we find it? Once found, will not strength, 
wisdom, and grace fail us before we have been 
able to see the end for which we long? It is 
grand to serve, but our strength is very small ! 

Ah ! these are not questions which ought to 
disturb us. Love in the heart can do all. The 
thing we really need to ask is, "Do I love? 
If I do, then I can do all.'' 

It is thirty-six miles from Boyle to Mar- 
shall, Arkansas. The road has many a turn; 
and still, a man who has been blind since he 
was a little boy made the journey on horse- 
back all alone, yet unafraid. Alone? What 
about the dog which trotted by the side of the 
horse all the way? In the morning the blind 
master fastened his little four-footed favorite 
to the bit of the horse's bridle by a chain. 
Then he climbed up into the saddle and 
pointed to the keen-witted animal which way 
he wanted to go. Once sure of the road, the 
dog took the highway, bound for Marshall. 

110 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

When they came to a turn, the animal would 
turn and trot back and forth watching the 
beckoning of the master's hand, to the right, 
to the left; then on he would go, tugging at 
his chain to bring the horse around to the 
proper course. So they all reached the de- 
sired destination at last. Only a dog — ^but 
he could lead the way for a man ! 

Out of the Father's House 

Why he went God only knows. He had a 
good home. His father was kind to him; 
never was there a mother more kind. A dear 
brother and a loving sister were his com- 
panions in the home. All that heart could 
wish was his. If he had been true to himself, 
the day would have come when the door lead- 
ing up to a successful business would have 
swung open for him. 

With all the strength of a good man's heart, 
the father had longed that his son might be- 
come a minister of the gospel, and he had 
planned the boy's studies somewhat with that 
end in view. Several times the young man 
had gone out into the country and taken part 
in leading religious services at schoolhouses 
and small churches. Here he had enjoyed the 

111 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

experience of seeing men and women who had 
been groping in the darkness spiritually find 
their way out into the light and of hearing 
them say with tears in their eyes as they took 
him warmly by the hand: "Thank you. You 
have helped me to-day.'^ A few times he had 
been invited to speak in large city churches. 
He found a certain degree of happiness in 
work of this kind, and yet, he turned away 
from it. Why? 

Was it some book which he read that awoke 
in his heart a desire to know more of the world 
lying beyond the hills of his father's quiet 
country home? Was it some word from a 
man he chanced to meet by the way? Did 
some visitor from the unknown out yonder 
bring to the farm wonderful tales of the suc- 
cess which awaits the young man who steps 
out bravely into the world, challenging it to 
give him its best? Or was it none of these, 
but a call from his own heart to go out and 
see what fortune holds in store for souls that 
are courageous? It may have been any one 
of these ; it may have been none of them. God 
knows. At any rate, he became dissatisfied 
with the round of the days at home. So he 
went out, not knowing whither he was going. 

112 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROOK 

Mother's kiss was still moist and warm on 
his pure lips when he stepped over the thresh- 
old. Father's face was very pale when he 
took his boy by the hand for the last time and 
bade him Godspeed. The son could not help 
thinking that he seemed to have grown sud- 
denly gray and old. For a moment something 
tugged at his heart ; but a little package which 
lay in his hand when he drew it back from 
holding that of his father led him for an 
instant to forget the look in the old man's 
face. ^^You may need it, my boy, before you 
find something to do: and do not forget to 
write home. Let us know if you ever want 
mother or me. Your room will always be 
waiting for you. You will find the door 
always unlocked whether you come day or 
night.'^ 

Who but father and mother ever would 
think of that? On the hill by the little white- 
wood tree he turned and looked back. Yes, 
there they were, just as he knew they would 
be, still standing in the doorway, watching 
their boy out of sight. They had opened their 
arms to let him go, but it was like tearing a 
beautiful plant up by the roots. How he had 
twined himself about their very souls ! 

113 



IN THE RIFT OP THE ROCK 

Yonder was the orchard. He had held the 
little trees by the top when they were set 
out, while father drew the earth carefully in 
with his hands, sifting the soft earth through 
his fingers, so that the tiny rootlets might 
have a better chance to live in the new environ- 
ment. Then he was a little boy. He had lived 
to see those trees come to fruitage. Were ever 
apples finer? How he enjoyed them when in 
after days father and mother remembered to 
send him some at school ! Those rosy-cheeked 
apples — he never could forget them. 

Away beyond the orchard was the meadow, 
and still farther away the cattle grazing peace- 
fully in the pasture. "I love them," he whis- 
pered to himself. ''They are so honest.'^ 

But youth does not tarry long in back- 
ward glances. Its face is turned out into the 
world; and he soon pushed on, with a wave 
of the hand to the figures under the old porch 
and the determination swelling in his heart 
to do something great, something worth while, 
something that would make father and mother 
proud of their son. "Some day I'll come back, 
and not across lots either.'' No! Then he 
would dash up the road with his own shining 
equipage. All the old neighbors would rush 

114 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

to the windows to see him speeding homeward. 
Father and mother, brother and sister, should 
then realize what a man can do out in the 
great, mysterious world, for he knew he could 
do great things. The world should recognize 
his ability and bow at his command. 

"Which the Swine Did Eat'^ 

How it hurts when the letters from the boy 
away from home grow shorter and farther 
between! How formal they seem, and they 
were once so full of love and fervor ! Between 
the lines the old folks can read the true story, 
the story of the life which stings and blights 
and kills. At first with this mother it was 
little more than a fear, an awful fear, a fear 
that sent her up to the little room she w^as 
keeping sacred to the memory of her boy, to 
kneel there all alone by the side of the bed, 
to sob out her prayers to God that her dear 
one might be spared and kept safe from all 
evil. To the father the effect was that of a 
stunning blow. He had never dreamed that 
his boy would bow down to sin, he was so 
clean, so strong, so pure. Ifot that he did not 
know all about the lure of sin upon the soul 
of the young man. He had himself felt the 

115 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

fascination of evil and seen its hands beckon- 
ing out and down upon the primrose path that 
leads to death. 

And the seams grew deeper on the father's 
face day by day. The trouble in his heart 
stripped the rich brown from his head and 
planted the white of sorrow in its place ! The 
tug at his heart robbed his hand of its steady 
grip, and he stumbled more and more as he 
followed the plow along the furrow. It does 
hurt so when the heart is bleeding out drop 
by drop for the boy who is down where the 
devil lurks! 

So life came to be one day-long, night-long 
prayer ! There were meeting places with God 
all round the old farm — in the haymow, in the 
little room upstairs, under the whitewood 
tree in the pasture, out in the sugar-bush — 
everywhere these well-worn places where sore 
hearts talked with Him who knows and sees 
and feels it all. Surely, not a sigh of these 
aching hearts was lost, for they still trusted 
God, through the shadows as through the sun- 
shine. 

Once more was enacted the tragedy of the 
son who "wasted his substance.^' Again came 
the filth of the swine, the dry husks, the 

116 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

burned-out manliood. But, thanks be to God 
for his matchless mercy, there did come a day 
when he lifted himself from washing the ooze 
and the slime out of a reeking spittoon to take 
out of the hand of a carrier a letter from 
home. Out of his trembling fingers fell the 
rotten spittoon! Up to the loft of the barn 
in the rear of the saloon he crept, and there 
alone he broke the seal of mother's letter. 

"Nothing from father !'' 

It was the first time he ever had failed to 
find a message from father with that sent by 
mother. What had happened? Could it be 
that at last patience had come to its limit? 
Had forgiveness trickled out and the spring 
become dry? Had the love of father burned 
itself down to ashes and gone flickering out? 

"Never ! That would not be my father.'^ 

But what then? 

There it was, all told in a mother's sweet 
way. In every line he could feel the sob. 
Father had turned the last furrow. Never 
again would he lie on his face up in the hay- 
mow, pleading for his boy. Out in the little 
plot on the hill the sun was shining calmly on 
a little mound that was not there a few days 
ago. 

117 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

^Tell our boy that I love him just the same." 

^^That was father's message to you ; and you 
know the little room is waiting for you, my 
boy." 

There was a bit of money in the letter — 
mother was so good. Tears were in his eyes, 
as he let the bill drop and read the letter over 
again. What was money when a heart was 
feeling its way through a sorrow like this? 

And something laid its grip on his soul, 
something that had not been there before. He 
picked up the money. 

^^I will take that money and use it as father 
would want me to use it. I will go on with 
the w^ork he wished me to do. I will take the 
back track, and I know I shall find God where 
I left him." 

And he meant it then. He climbed down 
the ladder wiih mother's letter in the pocket 
just over his heart, and in his hand the money 
father and mother had saved, fully determined 
that he would fight his way through the semi- 
nary course and give all that was left of his 
life to telling the story of God's redeeming 
love. 

"Then came that wicked one." With this 
new born resolution in his heart and that 

118 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

blood-bought money in his hand, he went back 
into the saloon and drank and drank and 
drank, until he lay in the filth on the floor in 
a back room to which he had been dragged by 
some one whose only interest in him was to 
get him out of sight! 

Through Darkness 

Of the days which came next, the sin-tossed 
man never could give any very clear account. 
He seemed like a ship stripped by the storm 
of every sail, rudderless, without a pilot, 
hurled hither and yon by wind and wave. 
Once he was conscious of saying to himself, 
"I will arise and go to my father's house"; 
and then it came to him with overwhelming 
force that he had no father now. Perhaps 
the Great Father had deserted him too. Bit- 
terly the thoughts came to him: ^^You have 
no father ! No one cares for your soul. You 
are not worthy even of the husks which the 
swine do eat.'' 

You and I know that this was only a taunt 
of the spirit of evil. Such comfort is all that 
Satan ever has to give the one he has ruined. 
And how it did cut this proud-spirited young 
man to think that for a few days of selfish 

119 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

indulgence he had bartered his soul and every- 
thing else that was dear to him ! Rags, shame, 
sorrow, pain — this was all he had left to show 
for the priceless treasures with which he had 
parted. Thus does sin mock its victim. 

So up and down the world he went, some- 
times sleeping out in the open country, with 
the pale light of the moon and the glint of the 
stars to keep off the shadows. Glad was he 
when night found him under the friendly 
shelter of a hedgerow ; sometimes fate was not 
so kind as that to him, and he laid his tired 
body down by the side of some barroom stove, 
his weary soul growing more sick and sore 
with the passing of the days. Hungry, worn 
to the quick of nerve, he lost all sense of hope. 
Faith had flickered out in its socket. All that 
was left was loathing and disgust. 

Sitting that way one day, by the glow of an 
early winter fire, his head far down on his 
breast, his eyes closed, he was thinking of 
home and father and mother. A tear found 
its way out and trickled down his cheek. God 
saw that tear ! 

The young man was sure he felt a hand on 
his shoulder. It seemed like a friendly touch. 
He looked up, half expecting to see one of his 

120 



HIGHEE, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

kind, and he wondered if he would be invited 
to go up to the bar and take another drink 
of the stuff that kills, the while it promises 
happiness. But this was not a face of that 
sort. The eyes which looked down into his 
were kindly and the smile played about the 
mouth of the stranger. 

^^Come on, old friend ; let's not stay here any 
longer. This is no place for you and me.'^ 

^^Old friend r 

Did this man really mean that? When had 
anybody called him by that sweet name of 
late? Surely, it must be the newcomer did 
mean it, for this was not the face of one who 
would hurt a fellow mortal. This was a good 
man. He pulled himself to his feet. How 
sore they .were! Every joint cried out in 
misery. The nights on the chill ground; the 
long tramps, beginning where the night before 
had found him and leading no whither; the 
wretched life he had lived, all had conspired 
to take the spring of early manhood out of 
him and had left him a poor, crippled, broken- 
down beggar. 

But this hand which held his own so 
warmly, these eyes beaming so cheerily into 
his own, this kindly summons to go out and 

121 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

away to something better — how could he resist 
the impulse to rise and follow? And the 
wonder became more intense. A little way 
along the street up which they went arm in 
arm — a street which somehow had a familiar 
look, an appearance strangely like something 
he had once known — listening like one in a 
dream to the clear, helpful voice, he realized 
that he was being half lifted into a sleigh. At 
this he was moved to question. 

^ Where are you taking me?'' 

It did not seem as if this strong, mild- voiced 
man could possibly be taking him prisoner. 
That thought came to him with startling 
force, however, he had so many times been 
hurried away and thrust into reeking cells. 
The thought of those vile places brought a 
mighty fear to his heart. A chill came over 
him. The man on the seat by his side felt 
the tremor and pulled the heavy robe up more 
closely. 

"Pull it clear up over you, old fellow. Cover 
your head, if you will. The air is chill to- 
night. We feel the first wintry days most of 
all. Don't worry about where we are going — 
just keep warm. I'll bring it out all right." 

And the wanderer could not but do as he 

122 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

was bidden. He submitted when the stranger 
took off his own great coat and wrapped it 
about him and tried to get still farther down 
under the blankets until his body and all but 
his face was covered. 

This ought to be a road he should know. 
Sometimes it seemed to him he had traveled 
this way. Had he not before now rested under 
that tree when the sun was hot? Out of the 
past something definite came pressing: this 
was — it must be^ — the way home! A great 
longing soon smothered by a mighty dread, 
but still shot through with a hope he had 
not lately known, seized upon him. How 
could he ever look into the pure eyes of his 
mother? It would kill her to see him as he 
was to-night. And then, how could he endure 
the sight of father's empty chair? He tried 
to speak to the driver and urge him to turn 
back — better the old haunts of sin than this 
purgatory of suffering. 

^^Stop now," he begged. ^^I can go no farther. 
You know me— I'm sure you do. And you 
know what it would do to my mother if she 
should see me to-night. Let me out now, or 
take me back to the city. I'm not fit to go 
home." 

123 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

"Don't say it, old fellow. It will be all 
right. You just don't know your mother, that 
is all. Don't you know she loves you?" 

"I know she did, but she could not if she 
should see me." Was ever such bitterness in 
any man's soul? 

"You will know better about that very soon 
now." 

Yes. This certainly was the old home. It 
seemed as if not a thing had been disturbed 
since the day he went over the hill yonder. 
He looked up toward the whitewood tree. Its 
outlines stood clear in the moonlight, just as 
they did in the long ago. The barn, the old 
well-curb, the deep porch — how well he knew 
them all ! 

"I must go on alone, if I am going at all." 
He was yielding to the spell of bygone days. 
"I thank you for what you have done; but 
now, I beg of you, go no farther ! You must 
not." 

"But you will go in, won't you?" 

Did that mean that he was afraid the wan- 
derer would even now slip away and go back? 

"You know — don't you?" 

"Everything, old friend; and I know what 
a mother's love can do." 

124 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHEE, TO THE EOCK 

The horse had stopped. The dazed man 
began to strip off the great coat. 

^^Leave it on, won't you? I don^t need it. 
It will help to '' 

^^Oover up some of the rags, won't it. That 
is kind of you. But it would not be right. 
She must know some time. It may be as well 
now." 

But the friend insisted and the prodigal 
stood alone knee-deep in the snow a moment 
later, watching the sleigh disappear toward 
the city. Once he took a step that way him- 
self, as if he must even now go back into the 
old life. How could he go back to that pure, 
dear mother? 

A gentle breath of wind blew across his face. 
How often he had known it to do that, even 
in the dead of winter! From some warmer 
current such a puff would be torn out of the 
sky to drive back the chill. With that touch 
of warm on his face the thought came to him 
that this had been one of the things for which 
he had been longing for years. Had not his 
very soul burned itself out in longing for the 
old home? Surely, he must go in. It would 
be the wildest sin he ever had committed to 
creep away now. 

125 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

"He trusted me to go on. I'll do it.'' 

And yet, with his foot almost on the door- 
sill, he shrank back. He went a little farther 
out from the house and plodded round the 
yard. He forgot that his feet were soaking 
wet and half frozen. 

"Ill sleep in the barn to-night. In the 
morning I'll see mother ! I'll be stronger then. 
Maybe she can endure it better then too.'' 

He started toward the barn. Just then a 
light flashed out of the window of his old 
room. A woman held the lamp in her hand 
a moment, then she set it down on the window 
sill. 

"Mother!" 

His hands went up to his head. How pale 
she was! Every hair had been turned white 
by the sorrow of the years. But how dear the 
face was to him ! Leaving the lamp still on 
the window ledge, she turned and knelt by the 
side of the bed — his own bed — kept so long 
just as it had been when he was a boy. 

And that was enough. Love had conquered. 
He ran up the steps and knocked at the door. 
But he did not wait for her to come down. 
He hurried in and dashed up the stairs to 
take her in his arms — led back home by love I 

126 



HIGHER, STILL HIGHER, TO THE ROCK 

How God does cling to the child of promise ! 
He did not let this ransomed soul go! He 
fanned into life once more the blaze of deter- 
mination to become a minister of the cross! 
The school work was again taken up, and the 
day came when he went up the pulpit stairs in 
his own appointed church and preached his 
first sermon from David's passionate lines: 
^^Lead me to the rock that is higher than I/' 

"O Love that wilt not let me go, 

I rest my weary soul in thee; 
I give thee back the life I owe. 
That in thine ocean depths its flow 

May richer, fuller be. 

"O Light that followest all my way, 
I yield my flickering torch to thee; 
My heart restores its borrowed ray, 
That in thy sunshine's blaze its day 
May brighter, fairer be. 

"O Joy that seekest me through pain, 

I cannot close my heart to thee; 
I trace the rainbow through the rain, 
And feel the promise is not vain, 

That morn shall tearless be. 

"O Cross that liftest up my head, 

I dare not ask to fly from thee; 
I lay in dust life's glory dead, 
And from the ground there blossoms red 
Life that shall endless be." 

(George Matheson.) 

127 



CHAPTER X 

FORGETTING THE ROCK OF STRENGTH 

Near the old house where we passed the 
summer one year, in days gone by there had 
been a garden. The day came when the little 
plot of ground was very much neglected. In- 
stead of bearing a great part of the vegetables 
which had been needed by the family which 
had occupied the place, it began to slip back- 
ward. The family moved away and the house 
had stood vacant for a year or two. No one 
had worked the garden, but old mother nature 
had been busy trying to make the bit of earth 
as productive as she could. The result cer- 
tainly was wonderful, for it afforded ample 
proof of the dear old dame's power to make 
two plants grow where one had been before. 
In fact, many times one stalk sprang up as if 
nature intended to occupy until a better 
tenant came. "What a sight that garden spot 
was! No longer sweet corn and beans and 
sugar peas grew there, but the rankest of 
weeds, and in almost endless variety! We 

12S 



FORGETTING THE ROCK OF STRENGTH 

used to stand on the border of the tiny spot 
of ground and try to imagine how many dif- 
ferent kinds of weeds really did find that earth 
congenial. 

One day the mistress and master of the 
farm determined that they would make a care- 
ful canvass of those plants and do their best 
to classify them. It was no easy task, for 
nature had been very busy scattering her seeds 
in that neglected spot. We brought out our 
old books on botany and ransacked them and 
delved deeper still into the nooks of memory. 
Many and many an hour did we spend in that 
interesting piece of work. Do the best we 
might, in the end there remained a few plants 
which we could not identify. These we sent 
away to the State Experiment Station for ex- 
amination and classification. When all was 
done we were astonished to find that no less 
than thirty distinct species of plant life had 
somehow gained a foothold in that little bit 
of ground. From garden to weedpatch — 
what a transformation ! 

How Did They Come? 

Over and over we asked ourselves the ques- 
tions, "How did all those weeds come to be 

129 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

where they were? Where did the seed from 
which they sprang come from?'' Surely, there 
must have been a germ for every plant, for 
something never comes from nothing. So we 
began to study the methods by which different 
seeds travel and found it exceedingly pleasant 
and profitable. On the wings of the wind 
some take their flight. Have we not all 
watched the fluffy thistledown sailing so 
silently through the air of a quiet autumn 
day? Other seeds drift over the snow in win- 
ter time; traveling far in a few hours of time. 
Others are carried by the birds on their jour- 
ney across the country. Still others come in 
the seed the farmer buys and sows on his land 
— smuggler seeds, stealing in to make us 
trouble. So in one way or another all these 
seeds must have journeyed from place to 
place, on and ever on, until at last they found 
a resting place in the congenial soil of the old 
garden; and here they were, thistles and bur- 
dock, broad-leaf plantain and ragweed, wild 
mustard and sheep sorrel — rioting rascals of 
the plant world, taking advantage of the mas- 
ter's absence to get a foothold where they 
never ought to have been. Strangely signifi- 
cant too, that after all of us had done our best 

130 



FORGETTING THE ROCK OF STRENGTH 

we were compelled to say of a number of the 
plants, "Unknown." 

Many of the plants we had been so inter- 
ested in w^ere beautiful in spite of their asso- 
ciations. The moment we took them into our 
hands, from the tender leaves broken from 
the stalk would come the sweetest perfume, 
as if the severed stems were pleading with us 
not to cut them off nor tear them from their 
pleasant surroundings. But right in among 
these lovely plants we would find others which 
were decidedly noxious. So down they all 
had to come, the bitter with the sweet, the 
rare and the beautiful with the ugly and the 
poisonous. With the coarse and the useless 
must go the fragrant and the graceful. And 
one morning, when the plants were all wet 
with the dew, we swept them down with a 
scythe and raked them up to be borne away 
and when dry burned to ashes. So the ground 
was stripped of its burden of weeds and made 
ready for the workman and his plow and his 
pure seed once more. 

The Peril of the Neglected Garden 

A half century of prosperity had eaten the 
heart out of God's people. The very blessings 

131 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

he had bestowed upon Israel had been the 
means of corrupting and demoralizing and 
undermining the spiritual life of the nation. 
It was the same old, old story. More and 
more men were turning away from God, back 
to idolatry, seemingly unmindful of the terri- 
ble fate which had always overtaken them in 
days gone by when they turned their backs 
on Jehovah. To the idols of their own inven- 
tion the people had added the foul and degrad- 
ing creations of the Syrians and the Phoeni- 
cians, by whose religious customs they had 
been strangely fascinated. With charming 
and yet startling imagery the prophet Isaiah 
pictures the situation : 

^^Because thou hast forgotten the God of 
thy salvation, and hast not been mindful of 
the rock of thy strength, therefore shalt thou 
plant pleasant plants, and shalt set it with 
strange slips.'^ 

Ah yes! Crimson clover, sweet William, 
pinks and arbutus, mingled with thistles and 
bindweed and beggar-ticks! Ox-eye daisies 
and honeysuckles and azaleas, choked by 
cockle and sorrel and poison ivy! Jehovah's 
altar side by side with repulsive calves ! The 
Holy of holies befouled by the presence of 

132 



FORGETTING THE ROCK OP STRENGTH 

foul asherahs and Baal images! Beautiful 
hilltops from which the eyes might look away 
Godward and heavenward reeking with the 
awful rites of a worship than which none 
more debasing ever had been invented! Soil 
laid out for the growing of the loveliest in 
nature, set thick with the deadliest of vines ! 

How terrible the fruit of such a sowing! 
The vision of the old prophet, as it was given 
him by Jehovah, pictures the ending of the 
harvest. "In the day shalt thou make thy 
plant to grow, and in the morning shalt thou 
make thy seed to flourish: but the harvest 
shall be a heap in the day of grief and of des- 
perate sorrow." 

Aye, hedge it about as thou wilt, O sinful 
Judah, with as much of hope as thou mayest, 
until the bud changes to the flower and the 
flower to ripened grain, the harvest shall be 
lost in the hour of the in-gathering, for the 
sickle will cut all down together. The rake, 
God's great swift, sure rake, will gather up 
the whole in one mighty heap, to be burned 
and wiped out together. 

The Garden of My Heart 
So have not I seen the garden of my heart 

183 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

laid waste? In the sunny days of my youth, 
when faith was strong and hope sang its 
sweetest song, with bounding pulses I took 
my way out into the world to turn up the 
furrows. There they lay, warm and glistening 
in the sunshine. Then I thought of nothing 
else than that some glad day my hands would 
gather rich stores from the seed sown on those 
brown furrows! How could it be otherwise? 
Had I not done my plowing and my harrow- 
ing and my sowing well? With heart leap- 
ing with joy, with fingers all a- tremble with 
pleasant anticipation, I had planted my 
plants and watered them with the tears of an 
unselfish love. Surely, they must yield me an 
hundredfold. And I was so happy then, so 
sure that my little plot of ground would yield 
glorious returns when the harvest laid its 
sheaves at my feet — and it should have been 
so! 

Yes, it would have been so had not I slept 
in the furrow. For a time I rose up early 
that I might stir the soil of my garden well. 
The dew was still on stem and stalk and leaf 
and flower when I hastened to my happy task. 
I watered my field. I let no foul thing get 
a foothold in it. I kept away every bird which 

134 



FORGETTING THE EOCK OF STEENGTH 

came to peck my blossoms and steal tliem 
away from me. No worm nor thing that 
might sting was ever given a chance to touch 
one of my plants ; and God blessed me while 
I toiled. He kept my heart pure and clean. 

Then something lured me away from my 
purpose. In my soul sin sang a song that 
seemed sweet to me. I lifted myself from 
my knees between the rows of my own plant- 
ing, the things I had loved so well. I leaned 
on my hoe and listened to the voice which 
said: ^^Why do you weary yourself thus? It 
is not necessary to put so much of yourself 
into these simple things. Look up and away 
a little while. The garden will still keep on 
growing. By and by, when you have rested 
yourself in the world's meadows, you will 
come back and find that all will be well.^' 

And so the tempter won me from my flowers 
and my choice plants. It must be true that 
I was giving more time than I needed to give. 
I was tiring myself unnecessarily. I saw 
others who did not seem to need to keep such 
close watch over their little acre of land. They 
had time to rest their souls in the lap of pleas- 
ure. They could look up and laugh and give 
the days and the nights to joy. They were 

135 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

not afraid that it would harm the delicate 
fiber of their souls if they indulged in some 
things the world put before their eyes. They 
seemed to find sin's fountain to be very sweet. 
Why should I think that I must watch and 
pray and ofttimes fast, lest I should awaken 
some day and find that my garden spot had 
become a wilderness of weeds? 

So I left the Book to lie on the shelf. It 
was but a book at best, like many another. 
Why not learn to know and think of God in 
other and more alluring ways? I shut the 
door between me and the old-time trysting 
place where Jesus had so oft met me and 
cheered me with his dear presence. I did 
more : I locked that door and hung the key in 
a place that seemed to me to be safe. What 
is prayer? So I asked myself. How foolish 
to fancy that One so strong, so stern in his 
justice, so unswerving in all his purpose can 
be moved by the pleadings of such a weakling 
as I? His ways are fixed! He is ever press- 
ing on toward one great incomprehensible 
issue, and no voice of man can swerve him 
from it. 

So I gave the world full sway in my soul — 
God forgive me ! I was like the men of Israel, 

136 



FORGETTING THE ROCK OF STRENGTH 

no whit better. With my own hands I was 
littering the hills of life with the whited altars 
of Baal! My asherah had taken the place of 
the solemn altar of my God, and when I stole 
away from my sinful pleasures long enough 
to see how it fared with my lovely garden 
spot, my heart stood still within me at the 
spectacle that met my gaze. 

From the four corners of the earth the seeds 
of death and ruin had come in, and the blasts 
of sin bore them swiftly to my soul's garden. 
The storms of passion swept them across 
desert waste and upland meadow and they 
rode on the breeze of temptation and doubt 
and fear. All the beautiful things, the things 
I had loved so well and cherished so fondly, 
were being choked to death by the evil weeds 
which had sprung up thus unbidden. The 
vinelike threads of sin were strangling the 
life out of them all — no golden harvest now ! 

When I put out my hand expecting to take 
a forget-me-not, I felt the sting of a nettle. 
What I thought would be a rose was changed 
into a thorn when I grasped it. The golden 
wheat I had hoped to garner was only worth- 
less darnel. Where I dreamed that I would 
gather joy and peace and heaven, I found iii- 

137 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROOK 

stead doubt and danger and loss. I heard the 
voice of God calling to me across a waste of 
sorrow : 

"Because thou hast forgotten the God of 
thy salvation, and hast not been mindful of 
the rock of thy strength, therefore shalt thou 
plant pleasant plants, and shalt set it with 
strange slips. In the day shalt thou make thy 
plants to grow, and in the morning shalt thou 
make thy seed to flourish : but the harvest 
shall be a heap in the day of grief and of 
desperate sorrow.'^ 

All Not Lost 

But is all, then, lost? Not yet. Thanks 
be to the God of our salvation, not yet! 
Though sin turn all into a heap of trouble, 
though evil may rive and rend and turn and 
overturn to the very depths of the soul, though 
the hot plowshares of pride and passion and 
prejudice may strike their furrows into the 
very life of my life, I know that God loves 
me still. It is not me that he hates, but the 
works which sin has wrought within me. So 
let me stand still and take the chastening 
which comes to me with patience, until the 
wickedness is all torn out of my nature and 

138 



FORGETTING THE ROOK OF STRENGTH 

the soil onee more cleared and made ready 
for the new sowing. Let me feel my way back 
to the place where I left the key to the holy 
place in which I used to meet my Saviour! 
May be I shall find that rust has eaten into 
my soul, but I know that key will hang bright 
on its nail, for while I was following the path 
of sinful indulgence, Jesus was coming night 
and morn to meet me as of old, and the door 
will be unbolted when I turn the key. I shall 
hear his sweet voice calling to me from the 
threshold, "Come unto me, all ye that are 
weak and heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest." I shall feel the hand of the Christ upon 
mine, and he will lift me over the portal; so 
shall I know that all my sin has been forgot- 
ten, washed white in the blood of the Lamb. 

Here, in the dear old place where I have 
found him so precious in the days gone by, let 
me renew my vows. Let me put my feet once 
more in his steps. Let me see him again 
through penitential tears. The garden of my 
heart let me sow again to wheat, and so shall 
there be corn for my God upon the mountains. 



139 



CHAPTEE XI 
THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK 

At what cost does God prepare for the peace 
and the comfort of them that are his own ! 

In the southwestern part of the State of 
New York the traveler finds a most wonderful 
formation of rocks. Away up on the side of 
a hill, high above the valley of the Allegany 
River, lie great masses of rock made of mingled 
pebble, flint, and sand. Over a space of many 
acres these mammoth conglomerates are scat- 
tered. It startles one to think what a day 
that must have been when those immense 
rocks were torn from the recesses of the earth 
and flung out into the light of day. What 
was God's purpose when he stripped them 
of the thick covering of earth which had per- 
haps for many centuries hidden them? It 
certainly could not have been that he might 
display his power. That is not his way; he 
never wastes strength or time. All his work 

140 



THE SHADOW OP A GREAT ROCK 

is done with a purpose. Ever he "knoweth 
the way he taketh/' 

Neither does it seem that he was tossing 
those rocks out of their place that he might 
reveal to man what treasures have been stored 
in the heart of the hills, ready for man's use 
when he shall need them. Whatever the 
thought of God, sure it is that in the shadow 
of those rocks many a little creature finds a 
hiding place in the day when he is sore 
bestead. So too has more than one visitor, 
overtaken by wind or storm, fled to their 
clefts and been safe until the tempest was 
overpast. 

And is not he ever doing just such things 
as that for you and me? In the dark and 
stormy days that come to us, when life presses 
hard, so that we do not know which way to 
turn, he has a refuge in waiting for us, if we 
but know where to find it, a hiding-place pre- 
pared at great cost. 

In the day when those blocks of stone were 
wrenched from the heart of the earth some 
tremendous force chiseled wide paths down 
through the stone. Through some of these 
passageways a considerable body of men 
might march abreast. Others are not so wide, 

141 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

scarcely permitting a single person to make 
his way through them on his hands and knees. 
Up and up above the surface tower those vast 
fragments far beyond the head of one standing 
below — ten, twenty, thirty, or even fifty feet. 
It was indeed a happy thought on the part of 
some visitor to call this the City of Rocks. 

Over this great city made by Jehovah him- 
self, sudden tempests sometimes sweep furi- 
ously. Then the traveler makes haste to creep 
under the shelter of some deep rock shelf to 
watch the lightning as it shears the clouds of 
heaven, to listen to the peals of thunder rat- 
tling among the peaks and crags about him, 
and to feel that he is secure from the shock 
of the storm. Strange if there should not now 
come an awe into his soul, or that he should 
whisper over again the words of the poet 
king: ^^In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust; 
let me never be ashamed: deliver me in thy 
righteousness. Bow down thine ear to me; 
deliver me. Be thou my strong habitation, 
whereunto I may continually resort: thou 
hast given commandment to save me ; for thou 
art my rock and my fortress," 

So do we flee to thee, thou Saviour of us all, 
in our times of distress. When the thunder- 

142 



THE SHADOW OP A GREAT ROCK 

bolts of pain rack us through and through, 
when the lightnings of sin threaten to rive 
our very souls in twain, we make haste to thee 
and are safe, for thou, O God, art indeed a 
Rock of hiding to us, a strong tower and a 
fortress. 

Is the thought too high for us? Do we 
stagger in the presence of a truth so beautiful 
and yet so overwhelming? God a "strong 
habitation"? God a "rock" and a "fortress"? 
How can that be? God knows how feeble is 
the grasp of the finite mind; and because he 
knows he repeats the truth over and over 
again, ever in plainer and more plain lan- 
guage, so that we may not miss its meaning. 

So let me read on. More and more patiently 
let me linger over thy blessed Book. It is 
thy beautiful letter to me. It is the chart of 
my life. It makes me know that thou art 
indeed my Rock of defense, my Shelter in the 
time of storm. 

"A man shall be a hiding place from the 
wind and a covert from the tempest : as rivers 
of waters in a dry place; as the shadow of a 
great Rock in a weary land." 

A man shall be as a rock for the hiding of 
his fellows! The thought makes the heart 

143 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

strong! Strong at a time when we need 
strengthening so sorely. For man's faith in 
man in these dark hours has such a feeble grip 
on us! So now ^^Lead thou me on/^ on to 
deeper trust ; on to richer faith ! 

Not a Man, but The Man 

The deacon's son was gone out of his place 
in the neighborhood. Country people are 
quick to note such a change. It does not take 
long for the news to spread from farmhouse to 
farmhouse. And Jamie was one who would 
soon be missed when out of sight. Always 
when at home he was about his work. Every- 
body within sound of his whistle knew it. So 
too they knew his voice when he sang, for it 
had a true and substantial ring that won the 
heart of the listener. The big woods a little 
way from the house served as a great sounding 
board for the song he sent trilling from the 
fields. Far and away it echoed and reechoed, 
carrying cheer and gladness to the lives of the 
quiet country folk. 

But now Jamie was gone. Suddenly, mys- 
teriously he had disappeared. Everybody 
wondered, for he had ever been a home-loving 
lad. Who could remember his having been 

144 



THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK 

away like that before? Always father and 
son had been together in the past. Even as a 
wee laddie the boy had never failed to have 
a place by his father when the big wagon went 
rumbling to market, tucked up in a little 
bundle on the seat. Up through the years it 
had been the same story — always together 
like two bosom friends, which they must have 
been. It did the people good to see them each 
confiding in the other, standing up for one 
another, and both working for the common 
good. What wonder that the neighbors won- 
dered about it, now that the father was left 
to go about the place alone? 

For a long time no one ventured to speak 
to the father about Jamie^s absence. The 
heart of the man of the country is kind and 
considerate. But when the deacon's face be- 
came pale and thin and careworn the people 
of the farms could scarce restrain themselves 
longer. What was the meaning of this mys- 
tery? What had happened in the once happy 
home? Where was Jamie, the sunny-hearted? 
Had they not a right to ask about it? Was 
not Jamie, at least in part, their own? Ought 
they not to go to the deacon and see what his 
sorrow was? Who could tell but he might 

145 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

just be waiting for that very thing? Still 
they hesitated. 

Little by little the truth came out. Jamie 
was not away on a visit. No, it was not that. 
He might be across the sea, or he might be 
in the army. The deacon did not know. No 
message had been left behind by their boy; 
none had come since he went away. All the 
father knew was that for a long time his son 
had seemed to be greatly concerned over the 
trouble which had befallen the world, and 
the call of his country for men to help in its 
hour of need had weighed upon his soul. The 
deacon remembered now that often when he 
would be missing Jamie he was very apt to 
find him alone in his room, poring over the 
story of the great war. Nor did he forget 
that day when Jamie had asked, "Father, 
don't you think every young man ought to go 
and do what he can when his country is in 
this danger?'' It struck terror to the old 
man's heart, but quickly, with something 
strangely like foreboding in his voice, he de- 
clared his opposition to such a thing. 

"No, son; not every one. It is an awful 
thing, this business of war. God does not 
want it. You and I know that. Else, why 

146 



THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK 

does he say we are not to strike back, it mat- 
ters not how many times another hits us? 
Don't you see it is peace, not war, he came to 
bring to the world, my boy?'' 

"Then why, father, does he say in another 
place, ^I came not to bring peace, but a 
sword'? If it were mother or me who had 
been hurt and ill treated, wouldn't you do 
your best for us?" 

The deacon felt somehow that he had not 
made out a particularly strong case when he 
tried to show Jamie how mistaken the world 
is when it uses that word of the Master as a 
warrant for waging wars. He could not tell 
what effect his argument had had on his boy, 
but he did not like the look on his face, which 
seemed to become more and more determined 
each day. Every night after that the old man 
would slip softly up the stairs to look at 
Jamie lying there in his bed, so strong in his 
young manhood, and to kneel as long as he 
dared lest he might waken the boy, asking 
God to keep his son for him as the staff of 
his declining years. 

It was a hard blow to the deacon when one 
night he stepped quietly into the room only 
to look upon a bed that was empty. The shock 

147 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

of the discovery seemed to take the form of 
some mighty hand gripping his heart and 
stopping its beating. And there by the side 
of the empty bed he could only voice the sor- 
row of his soul. Then, after awhile, he went 
down to tell the mother, and together the 
whole night through they tried to find com- 
fort where there did not seem to be a single 
crumb. Why should such bitterness come to 
us? Why should a good God let such sorrows 
so hurt our spirits? 

The deacon did not look for his boy. He 
knew that would do no good. Jamie was a 
man now, his own true-hearted boy, and yet, 
master of himself. Ah! there was one sharp 
thorn in the heart of the old man. How it 
did pierce to the very quick ! 

"If Jamie only had made Christ his Mas- 
ter!'^ This was his plaint to the mother of 
the lad. 

^^ Jamie is a good boy, father! I do not 
think we need to worry about him.^' 

"O, yes, mother, but — " 

But mothers know much that they must 
never tell. Would it have been wise for the 
mother of Jamie to tell all her eyes had 
seen while their boy was yet with them? Of 

148 



THE SHADOW OF A GEEAT ROCK 

his love of country, which all the time was 
struggling to crystallize in positive service, 
making him to feel more and more that the 
time had come when his land had a deep claim 
upon his strength and young manhood? 
Should she have opened her heart then to her 
husband so that he might have known that 
it had been out of love for him that Jamie 
had never spoken a word of the determination 
which was taking possession of his heart? 
That while he was steadily coming to see his 
duty toward his fellows and to his country 
more clearly, his respect for the man who had 
carried him in his arms since he had been a 
baby kept from saying definitely what he felt 
he must do? 

Mother though she was, there had been this 
shadow of uncertainty in her heart. Had 
Jamie ever seen anything in her which seemed 
to be an approval of his silent longing to go 
at the call of his country? Surely he could 
not have known that on the very day when 
he slipped out of the home she too had been 
on her knees at his bedside. Her hands had 
just finished the last kindly touches on coun- 
terpane and pillow. She had stood with tight- 
clasped hands, looking long at the still place 

149 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

where he had regularly slept since that first 
night when she had led him up to sleep alone 
under the rafters, and had given him anew 
into the keeping of God. 

"Thou knowest, O God, that Jamie loves 
us, father and me. It is not out of unkindness 
that he keeps his heart from his father." It 
was not so easy to say the rest when she knew 
that the arrow had been sent from the bow 
and that the shaft had been winged straight 
at her own heart. For a long time she walked 
up and down that room before she could bend 
a knee. But at last loyalty to God overcame 
the mother love and she fell on her face, sob- 
bing through her tears : "As thou wilt, O my 
Father. I open my arms to let him go. Jamie 
will be a true soldier. The land needs him. 
Thou needest him. So keep him, I pray thee, 
for I must have him back again." 

Nothing of this could she let the father 
know. Now he needed support, not fearsome 
doubtings or ill based hopes. When he was 
out in the fields she might weep and pray as 
she would, but in his presence she must be 
brave. So it was, when her husband uttered 
that cry of longing at the thought that Jamie 
never had stood up before men and definitely 

150 



THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK 

given himself to God, that she could say very 
positively: "My husband, do you doubt that 
Jamie and God are friends? You remember 
that day when you read these words out of the 
Book, ^A man shall be as an hiding place from 
the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as 
rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow 
of a great rock in a weary land.' Jamie sat 
a long time looking at the firelight, and 
then he said: ^Don't you think, father, that 
means The Man? Who else could be a hid- 
ing place from the wind? Could there be any 
other Rock in a weary land?' And you recall 
how satisfied he was when you told him there 
was no question in your mind but that he was 
right. Yes, Jamie's heart is in His keeping. 
I am sure of it." 

"And yet, mother, I have longed for the 
time to be when he would stand up before 
men and say it. We must not forget that it 
is Vith the mouth that confession is made' 
before men." 

Did the deacon's conscience trouble him 
now that he had never urged Jamie to do that? 
He knew how sensitive his boy was, so he had 
not pressed him to take upon himself the vows 
of the church until he should feel the prompt- 

151 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

ings of the Spirit to do it of his own free will 
and accord. And Jamie had never come to 
that point. 

"Some time/^ he had thought, "God will 
lead him that w^ay." 

But now it might be too late. If he only 
knew where Jamie w^as at that moment, he 
would go to him and do the thing he felt that 
he should have done long ago. If he might but 
have the chance to live over again that one 
day before Jamie went away, he would plead 
with the lad to make the great confession. He 
could bear it that Jamie should slip away 
through the shadows without saying what he 
was about to do, even if it well-nigh broke his 
heart. He had not a shadow of fear that 
Jamie would ever do anything that would 
bring a stain on the name of those w^ho loved 
him. It was a thing to be proud of, so far as 
a man might take pride in a strife of the 
sword, that his boy should go and do the best 
he could to fulfill what seemed to him a duty. 
But his spirit w^as hurt because Jamie had 
never yet said to the Christ, "Thou knowest 
that I love thee.'^ 

Out in the meadow, by the side of the spring 
at which Jamie and he had so often quenched 

152 



THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK 

their thirst together on the hot summer days, 
under the wide-spreading trees of the tall 
sugar maples, down on his knees between the 
furrows, up in the sweet-smelling hay in the 
loft of the barn — everywhere he went the 
deacon kept thinking, "God help Jamie to say 
it/' His whole life now was one long prayer 
that somehow, somewhere, Jamie's lips might 
come to speak the words of his heart. For is 
it not through confession that men have peace 
with God? 

Thus the struggle went on until one day 
while down on his face the good old man was 
able, through the grace of God, to say : "Help 
Jamie to make the great confession. Then I 
would be willing that thou shouldest take him 
to thyself, if that seemed best to thee. If it 
should break mother's heart and mine, that 
would be well, for then would we all be with 
thee." 

Waiting and praying, the deacon grew 
thinner of face and paler of cheek. It is so 
hard to watch for the letter which does not 
come. He lingered longer on his face at the 
evening hour. Long after his lips had ceased 
to utter his wonted prayer of praise and 
thanksgiving, he still knelt there with bowed 

153 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

head — so long that sometimes mother laid her 
hand gently on his shoulder, as if in fear lest 
he had gone away to God. 

It was not strange that a time should come 
when the deacon would kiss his wife good-by 
and go away to find their boy. 

^^I must find him, mother! I must know 
how it is with him. If I stayed, you and I 
might go on ahead of Jamie. I want to stay 
till we know — " 

The mother knew. She had seen the day 
coming. She raised no voice of protest when 
she buttoned his great coat about him and let 
him go out in search of Jamie. It meant 
loneliness such as she never had known before. 
It could not be doubted that the burden upon 
her heart would be heavier than her husband 
knew. Let that be as it might, if only the 
waiting brought some news of Jamie. 

The Great Rock 

The battle had left its aftermath of dead 
and wounded. The Red Cross had gathered 
up such as might be helped and placed them in 
a long building to wait the coming of the sur- 
geons. There they were — the blinded, the 
mangled, the unconscious, those who were con- 

154 



THE SHADOW OF A GREAT EOCK 

scious, bravely trying to keep back all signs 
of the suffering whicli they were enduring. 

Walking between the long lines of the 
wounded soldiers an old man was seen. Not 
a face escaped him as he moved slowly along. 
His lips were pressed hard together, but hi® 
eyes were even now hopeful, as if expectant 
of something which might bring joy. Thus 
he moved slowly along between the rows of 
cots. Then his keen ears heard, or thought 
they heard, a low, "He cannot last long,'' and 
he grasped the doctor's arm and questioned 
back, "He cannot live?" and then added, "He 
must live !" — for this was Jamie ! 

For an instant the father trembled per- 
ceptibly, but the weakness passed quickly, and 
with a gentle hand he pushed back the tangled 
hair from the forehead and kissed the wounded 
boy. Then with a voice in which echoed all 
the tenderness of a father's love, he said : "O, 
Jamie, look at me ! Look at me ! If you can, 
my laddie!" 

Surely it was in answer to this pleading — 
it must have been — that the lips did move a 
little. Low over the white face he bent him- 
self to gather the lightest murmur of the life 
spark which was fast flickering out. "A man 

155 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

shall be as a hiding place from the wind, and 
a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water 
in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock 
in a weary land.'' 

The grip on the father's hand grew tighter. 
For an instant the eyes of the boy were fixed 
upon the face above him. 

^Tather!" 

Love, joy, pleading for pardon were all 
blent in that word. 

"Jamie!" 

It was all there, all the boy needed to make 
his going away full of peace. 

"I knew you w ould forgive me, father ! But 
it is good to hear you say it. You have been 
a rock to me! I love you so; but we must 
love Him best, for He is our Rock." 

The voice was fading and the father spoke 
rapidly : 

"O, my Jamie, there w^as nothing to forgive. 
Now I know you have made it right with Him. 
But can you not say it with me?" 

And there in the shadows the father re- 
peated slowly, and the son with him, the 
words of the greater confession: 

^^I believe in God the Father Almighty, 
Maker of heaven and earth: and in Jesus 

156 



THE SHADOW OF A GREAT EOCK 

Christ, Ms only Son our Lord; who was con- 
ceived by the Holy Ghost; born of the Virgin 
Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was 
crucified, dead and buried; the third day he 
rose from the dead; he ascended into heaven, 
and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father 
Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge 
the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy 
Ghost; the holy catholic church, the com- 
munion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the 
resurrection of the body; and the life ever- 
lasting. Amen.'' 

Still back to the other cherished thought 
the words wandered: "My Rock — my Hiding 
Place — my Shelter from the tempest.'^ The 
whisper went out with a smile. 

The deacon lifted himself from his knees 
with a look of joy and peace on his face, for 
he knew that Jamie was safe in the shadow 
of the ROCK. 



167 



CHAPTER XII 

HEWN FROM THE ROCK 

When the people of a great city out on the 
Western coast of the United States finished 
their wall of more than a mile in length, they 
were sure that they never again would have 
reason to be afraid that the ocean would 
trouble them by tearing down the barriers 
lifted against it and flooding their homes and 
places of business. Skilled engineers had 
studied out the plans for that new sea wall 
so carefully that they believed it would be 
impregnable; the workmen who carried out 
the designs dug deep for the foundation; ex- 
perts mixed the cetnent which was to be used ; 
the contractors reenforced the mighty bul- 
warks with stout arms of iron. One section 
of the wall more than eighteen hundred feet in 
length rose five feet high above the surface, 
while another stretch of four thousand feet 
averaged ten feet in height and was thick in 
proportion. "Now we can laugh at the sea;'' 

158 



HEWN FROM THE ROCK 

so the people said and went to their beds to 
sleep in fancied security. 

Watching the waves as they came thunder- 
ing in, dashing their spray and foam half a 
hundred feet above the top of the tallest 
barrier, the dwellers of the city smiled and 
congratulated themselves upon the impotence 
of the Pacific Ocean to disturb the work of 
their hands. But they laughed too soon ! It 
was the sea which laughed last. As if it had 
been battered down by thousand-pound pro- 
jectiles, the beautiful bulwark crumbled into 
fragments ! Aye, like glass it went to pieces, 
shattered and tossed about as a boy might 
tumble into ruins the row of blocks his play- 
mate had reared. And the ocean came in to 
claim its toll of ruined homes once more. It is 
man who must retreat or build more securely. 

Never yet has man been able to put up a 
barrier against flood or fire or frost or tempest 
which could not be thrown down by the tire- 
less forces God has at his command. All over 
the world men have been trying to do this 
since they first began to pit their strength 
against that of the Unseen One; and all over 
the world their walls have gone down into 
dust. Just for a little while they have stood; 

159 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

then God touched them and they were no 
more. 

On the Plains of Salisbury 

Who set up those mysterious pillars of 
stone on the plain of Salisbury, England? 
When was it? What purpose did they ever 
serve? To all these questions the best of 
students must answer, "We do not know/^ 
There they stand, there they have stood, those 
huge sentinels, some of them more than 
twenty feet high, in a circle occupying the 
central portion of an area a hundred and 
twenty feet in diameter, and guarded all 
around by a rampart of earth and a wide 
ditch. Man may speculate and dream as he 
may, but those silent shafts probably never 
will give up their secret. They never have 
yielded to anything more definite than specu- 
lation. Whether they mark the scene of some 
ancient place of worship or whether they com- 
memorate some event not otherwise marked 
in history, or whether they simply tell of the 
rallying place of soldiers of the long ago, we 
have no way of knowing, and it is idle to ques- 
tion. 

Just one thing we do know of a surety. 

160 



HEWN FROM THE ROCK: 

Stonehenge is being shaken back to ashes. 
Already many of the pillars have disappeared. 
Others are prostrate, broken at the base. All 
give snre signs that the unconquerable forces 
of nature are gnawing at them. Time never 
will be satisfied until the last stone has been 
ground into its original dust and scattered 
to the four winds of heaven. Were our ears 
but tuned to catch the sound, this would be 
the mandate we would hear: ^^Back to ashes! 
Level all things, earth, wood, stone. Grind 
everything to powder. Chisel, undermine, 
tear down all that man may plan, all his 
hands may make. Know that I am God, the 
One, Eternal. Only that which I build shall 
stand.'^ 

Only that! What, then, shall endure? 
What can last beyond the swinging of to-day's 
pendulum? 

A Broken Cable 

The great Atlantic cable was dead. A man 
with a great heart had dreamed of linking 
the old world with the new, by a thread of 
wire dropped to the bed of the ocean. Through 
many a day and night of work and persever- 
ance and patience his vision had been wrought 

161 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

out. At last the mystic cable was made and 
stretched from side to side of the ocean. Men 
on one continent stood at the cable's eastern 
end and held converse with men in the western 
world. It was wonderful, beyond belief. 

But something had happened. One day the 
operator ticked his message out under the sea 
and there was no response. No answering 
click came back out of the ocean caves. The 
man at the key leaned back from his instru- 
ment, for it was powerless. The cable had 
been broken somewhere in mid ocean. 

The story of the search for the place where 
the cable had parted and the tale of the long- 
continued and discouraging efforts to bring 
the severed ends together form one of the most 
thrilling chapters ever written in the book 
of human endeavor. But at last the seemingly 
impossible was accomplished. Up out of the 
depths of the ocean, by the aid of grappling 
hooks, the broken strands were lifted and care- 
fully welded together once more. Again the 
cable was dropped back to its cold bed at the 
bottom of the ocean. Now the electric spark 
flashed into the water on the American side 
awoke a corresponding spark away on the 
coast of England. Once more the cable was 

162 



HEWN FEOM THE ROCK 

alive. Once more friend could hold converse 
with friend a thousand miles away. Once 
more one of God's most wonderful laws had 
been brought out into the light. Link touch- 
ing link, the whole chain throbs with power ! 

The Cheeriest of Men 

The cheeriest man I know is a man of the 
open country. All day long he is busy about 
his work. As he follows his plow his heart 
goes out in song, varied now and then by a 
whistled tune. True and straight and deep 
are the furrows he turns. Oftentimes before 
the sun has swung its course to the western 
sky his feet, grown heavy from the steady 
trudging from field's end to field's end, stand 
for a moment while his gaze turns home- 
ward, his hands lying lightly on the handles 
of his plow. Away down yonder in the valley 
a dear one is watching from the doorway. 
With uplifted hand he waves a signal. 
Quickly comes back the answering sign. A 
smile comes over the sunburned face. For 
a single moment he kneels down just where 
he is in the brown, sweet-smelling furrow. 
His heart is high and lifted up toward heaven. 
His lips are parted in a prayer of praise and 

163 



IN THE RIFT OP THE ROCK 

thanksgiving. Another message has been sent 
across the blue and God hears and answers. 
New fire comes into the soul of the patient 
worker. With a new song he rises to go on 
with his appointed task. 

To-night when this man goes home through 
the shadows^ little feet will run to meet him. 
Tiny arms will be lifted up to welcome him. 
Stooping he will receive the warm kiss of his 
dear ones. The flower he has picked from the 
meadow grass on the way home he will place 
in the hair of the wife who comes down to 
greet him. Many a neighbor passing will 
wave him a hearty good cheer. The day's 
work done, around the table the little band 
will gather, and One will be in their midst. 

Severed Links 

It was not always so with this earnest toiler 
of the farm. Ah, the sorrow of it! But let 
us not speak of it now. Let it be even forgot- 
ten. For God is very good. So little good 
ever comes from recalling the sickening de- 
tails of a broken life. Just give all this a 
passing glance and let us hasten on. It was 
the time when the cable snapped. Was it 
some storm of evil which wrenched his life 

164 



HEWN FROM THE ROCK 

out of the keeping of God? Was it a tempta- 
tion wMch proved too strong? Did passion 
sweep over the once white soul and leave it 
cut off from all that is good and pure and 
beautiful? Who knows but God, and it does 
not matter now. 

The joy of it all is that God did not forget 
the broken chain! Up in heaven he felt the 
slackening of the strands which had been 
severed. He tried to call to his child through 
the blackness of the tempest, and no answer 
came back. Sin had cut off the beautiful 
thread which had linked heaven and man. 
But, thanks be to His holy name, it had not 
cut off God's law. That sin can never do. 
It may plot in hell's deepest and darkest 
recesses; it may concoct its most devilish 
schemes; it may hunt man from the cradle 
to the cross, but it never can outdo the love 
and the patience and the tenderness with 
which God will follow his loved one, seeking 
until He has found the sheep which was lost, 
and laying the poor, bruised, torn, and sin- 
sick thing on his bosom and hurrying all the 
way back to the gates of paradise, rejoicing 
that the straying lamb has been found. 

No ! God will never stop looking and long- 

165 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

ing and hoping for the soul which has wan- 
dered away from the Father's house. Through 
the mists of the storm, he will feel along the 
ocean depths with his grappling hooks of 
mercy until he finds the broken cable ends 
that have for a little moment been torn from 
his grasp! He will hold them fast until re- 
pentance and love and pardon have welded the 
severed links once more. And once more he 
whispers his messages of hope and peace and 
joy across life's waste. The night is past. 
The day-star has appeared. 

Sin and storm and frost and rust may pull 
down the best that man can do, but God's 
love standeth sure. Men may regard our 
iniquities in their heart and remember them 
against us ; God never ! 

"As far as the east is from the west, so far 
hath he removed our transgressions from us." 

"Like as a father pitieth his children, so 
the Lord pitieth them that fear him." 

"For he knoweth our frame; he remem- 
bereth that we are dust." 

Sing on, then, O man of the plow and the 
sweet-scented furrow ! For thee God sent his 
Son all the way from glory to Calvary. That 
thou mightest be ransomed from the power 

166 



HEWN FROM THE ROCK 

of sin he gave his Only-Beloved to die, to rise, 
to lift thee and me up to the shining gates. 
Thy peace, thy pardon, thine everlasting 
crown have all been purchased. 

Love has hewn out for thee a Rock which 
neither storm nor time can touch. For love 
does last, and it is the only thing which does 
endure. 



167 



CHAPTER XIII 

BEOKEN BY THE HAMMER FOR 
SERVICE 

Air all a-quiver, earth trembling under foot, 
the very breath one breathes hot with that 
rapid succession of sounds — "What is it?" I 
ask of a man who lives almost under the 
shadow of the great factory. 

^^You mean what is it that make the loudest 
of the sounds? It's the hammers down yon- 
der, sir. They do make a terrible noise, if 
you are not used to them, don't they? But 
they do a lot of work that might never be done 
without them.'' 

And I could well believe that as I stood 
afterward and watched those ponderous steam 
hammers, pounding out their part of the day's 
work. Now the great mass of metal darts 
downward, delivering its blow on the bed of 
steel under it, as if hurled by some force truly 
titanic in its power. The very ground shakes 
as if under an earthquake shock. The next 

168 



BROKEN BY HAMMER FOR SERVICE 

instant the strokes fall more lightly, so lightly 
that they seem like a mere tapping on the solid 
plate of the machine. Scarcely do they touch 
the piece of steel lying there so helplessly. 
I almost pity the senseless fragment. Why 
must it be thus beaten and crushed and 
pressed from one form to another? I looked 
at the man who was doing it all. There he 
sat calm, steady, watchful. With one hand 
he held a small lever. As he shifted this one 
way or another, so the blows rained hard and 
fast or more softly and slowly upon the metal 
which was being fashioned. One moment the 
piece of steel lay there, warped, twisted, almost 
shapeless; the next, by the blows of the ham- 
mer, it had taken on a form of definite beauty. 

Not all at random, then, I thought, is this 
work* Out of the midst of this thunder and 
deafening clatter a great purpose is being 
wrought. Somewhere there is a pattern, and 
after that pattern something fine is being 
fashioned. 

Everywhere I walked about that great fac- 
tory it was the same. Iron from the moun- 
tains yonder was undergoing marvelous trans- 
formation. Heated until it was red-hot, run 
into deep, dark molds, cut and sawed and 

169 



IN THE EIFT OF THE KOCK 

torn and pulled in every direction, pounded 
and drawn out as fine as a spider's web — and 
all that it might go out somewhere into the 
world and be used of men. 

The Hillside Quarry 

I climb the hills to a quarry of rocks. As 
in the factory below, men here are wielding 
hammers. I miss the great engines run by 
steam or electricity, and still I cannot but 
see that a marvelous work is being done by 
these smaller hammers swung by the arms of 
brawny men. There they sit all day long, 
pounding, pounding, pounding on the heads 
of their drills, sinking deep holes into the 
heart of the rock. When they have done their 
work and gone on to other beds of stone, I see 
another force of workmen coming to drop 
into the holes made by the drillers charges 
of powder or dynamite. In fancy I see these 
awful servants of humanity at their part of 
the work. I know that when they explode, 
they will rive and tear and rend the now solid 
rock, but only that it can be used. 

I follow those blocks, torn from the quarry 
by hammer and explosive down the hillside. 
Here men are chipping away the rough cor- 

170 



BROKEN BY HAMMER FOR SERVICE 

ners, chiseling the lines into perfect form. 
By the eye of my soul I see those blocks, 
broken by the hammer, as they rise round by 
round, course after course, until they stand 
in city or town, cathedrals, temples of art, 
places of business, homes of wondrous beauty. 
And I know it never could have been done had 
it not been for the thunder and the breaking 
of the hammer. 

The Vision of the Prophet 

Wonderful fancies were given of God to 
his prophets. Think of the imagery of Jere- 
miah, How charming it is in its beauty, how 
forceful in its purpose! With all, it is sim- 
plicity itself. Sheep, meadows, pastures, 
springs, plants, streams, all kinds of living 
creatures and nature's works — these become 
to him really living, moving, sentient things, 
instruments revealing God's thought to his 
children. 

Designing men whose purpose it was to 
trick and deceive, in the guise of divinely sent 
messengers, had found their way to Israel. 
They had lured many away from Jehovah 
with lying lips and seductive promises. God 
saw their deceptive plotting and says that 

171 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

these men hoped thus to ^^cause my people to 
forget my name by their dreams which they 
tell every man to his neighbor/' But, he de- 
clared, they should all be like the chaff as 
compared to the wheat. ^^Is not my word 
like as a fire? saith the Lord; and like a ham- 
mer that breaketh the rock in pieces?'' 

Swiftly the mind runs back to the giant 
hammers, thundering out the will of the work- 
men who handle them in the shops. Steel 
shaped by the massive machine, rock crushed 
by the hammer, and all that there may be 
added beauty and usefulness. 

Life Under the Hammer 

Somewhere I have heard the story of a 
young physician who came to a small town to 
take the place of a doctor who had recently 
died. The old man had lived in that quiet 
country place for many years. So faithfully 
had he wrought that he had won the hearts 
of all the people. His service had been one 
of love, and it had brought him more love than 
he had given, for giving is truly living. The 
young man had not been married very long, 
and there was much speculation on the part 
of the people as to what the new wife would 

172 



BROKEN BY HAMMER FOR SERVICE 

be like. What would be her character? Would 
she not bring from the world outside some- 
thing of the thrill of the society she was leav- 
ing behind? Surely, she would create a great 
sensation in every circle of society. 

And the town put on its very best to receive 
the new doctor's wife. On tiptoe, eager with 
expectation, the maids and matrons watched 
for her entrance into society — their little 
society — for which they hoped so much under 
the leadership of the newcomer. They were 
sure that she would be dressed in the height 
of fashion. Her fingers would flash with 
costly rings. At her throat beautiful gems 
would glitter. She would be proud and 
stately and beautiful, just as a society queen 
from the great world outside ought to be. 

On a certain day the doctor's wife gave a 
reception. All eyes were bent on the door 
through which she was expected to come. But 
when at last she came quietly in, how quickly 
all the fancies and the imaginings took flight. 
She was different from anything they had ever 
supposed she would be like. A little wave of 
disappointment ran round the room; for she 
was a plain little body, clad in a dimity gown, 
no rings on her fingers, no jewels at her throat. 

173 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

No glittering diamonds, no tortoise shell comb 
fastened her hair. She held a rosebud in her 
hand. She seemed more plain and simple than 
the plainest girl of all the country-side. And 
the guests went away feeling that somehow 
they had been cheated by the new doctor and 
his wife. 

But little by little they changed their mind. 
The quiet woman won her way into the heart- 
life of the people. Very rarely was she pres- 
ent at any of the society events of the neigh- 
borhood; but if there was trouble anywhere, 
there she was to be found. The poor and the 
sick and the sore of spirit sought her, for they 
knew that the touch of her hand would bring 
them peace and calm and rest. 

A few months after her coming a lad was 
badly hurt in a coal mine near the town. Will- 
ing hands lifted him and brought him out of 
the darkness and laid him on a bit of straw 
in a tumbledown shanty, there to remain until 
such time as the doctor could be found and 
brought to him. When the messenger sent to 
summon the doctor arrived at the latter's 
home, the physician was away in the country 
in response to a previous call ; but the young 
wife threw a shawl over her head and walked 

174 



BROKEN BY HAMMER FOR SERVICE 

all the way to the place where they had left 
the boy, the distance being more than a mile. 
When she reached the cabin she found a few 
miners gathered about the cot. They respect- 
fully made way for her when she came in. 
One who was there says that the doctor's wife 
knew from the first that there was no hope 
for the injured boy; but she wiped away the 
blood and did all she could to make him com- 
fortable. Listen to the story as it is told by 
a friend who went with her to the old house : 
"She knelt beside the cot, and taking the boy's 
hand in hers, sang very softly, ^Nearer, my 
God, to thee.' Tears fell from the eyes of 
every man in the room, most of whom had not 
heard that hymn in many years, as the sweet- 
voiced woman knelt there in their midst. 
Then she kissed the forehead where the death 
damp was fast gathering, and spoke to him 
gently. *Tell mother,' he said, faintly, ^that 
God sent you to take her place.' In a few 
moments the boy had passed away, and every 
man reverently stood with bared head, as with 
her hand in mine she quietly slipped from 
the room. Silently, tearfully, prayerfully I 
witnessed this scene when I was at the age of 
greatest susceptibility. On that day, made 

175 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

sad by the going out of a young life, in a rude, 
obscure shanty, I learned the deepest lesson 
of my life. On that day my ideal was changed 
from a woman of perfect features and fault- 
less figure to one, who by the beauty of her 
soul and the touch of her life taught a whole 
community how to live like the Master/' 

How had the doctor's wife come by that 
grace and sweetness which helped her to see 
life at its true angle? That story may never 
be told this side eternity; and yet we may be 
sure that some time, somewhere, she herself 
had known the fashioning strokes of the ham- 
mer of God ; and they had shaped and molded 
her very soul into the likeness of the Master 
she followed. That is the only way true 
beauty of character is ever wrought out. 

The ring of the stonecutter's hammer and 
chisel always had a charm for me. I love to 
watch one of these workers as he takes the 
rough, imperfect stone from the quarry and 
patiently chips away the corners and brings 
out the beauty which his eyes could see while 
yet the rock lay in the rough. The blows seem 
hard; that is the only way to find the angel 
in the block. Every stroke makes me fiinch, 
for I fear that the steel may cut too deeply 

176 



BROKEN BY HAMMER FOR SERVICE 

and spoil the beautiful thing: but the hand 
which swings the hammer is sure and steady. 
Just at the right moment it will be stayed. 
So I watch until at last the cutting is all done, 
the rock is turned into a thing of perfect 
beauty, the stone is fitted for its place. 

I am not really happy when God places me 
under his hammer. The bed of the anvil is 
so hard. How can I endure it? And these 
swift blows, coming again and again, how 
they hurt my soul! I shrink, I cry out in 
pain, through my shut lips, praying God in 
his mercy to stay his hand. It seems to me 
at last the work must be complete. Am I not 
indeed fit for the Master's use? 

So, it may be, good Abraham of old cried 
to God that day when with the son of his heart 
he trod the stony steeps of Mount Moriah. 
When at first the message came to him, ^^Take 
now thy son, thine only son, Isaac, whom 
thou lovest, and get thee into the land of 
Moriah, and offer him there for a burnt offer- 
ing upon the mountain which I shall tell thee 
of' — then it must have seemed like the death 
knell of every long-cherished hope. But no 
cry escaped his lips. 

God knew just how heavy the blows were; 
177 



IN THE EIFT OP THE EOCK 

but he knew too just what Abraham needed 
to make him the father of the faithful, God's 
great example of faith for all time to come. 
Therefore he let them fall. 

O, my Father, give me the grace to be still 
till thou hast wrought out in me thine own 
sweet will ! Sharp may be the cutting of the 
chisel, heavy the blows of thy hammer, but I 
know they are sent in love. I am not alone; 
just by my side I see Jesus, my great Burden- 
Bearer. Ever between me and the stroke is 
his hand, the dear hand that was pierced. 
And some day I shall awake in his blessed 
likeness ! 



178 



CHAPTER XIV 
HONEY OUT OF THE EOCK 

Away out on the border line of civiliza- 
tion a traveler met a woman at the station. 
She was to take him still farther from the 
world, to a little settlement where he was to 
meet a speaking engagement. She was neatly 
dressed, and when she spoke he could see that 
there had been a day when her life had been 
lived somewhere else than in that far western 
country. There was no need for haste, and 
they drove slowly across the quiet prairie, 
talking of many of the great things of life. 
It was plainly to be seen that she was a woman 
with a great dream in her heart, just as heaven 
was in her face. 

^^You surely must stay with us to-night,^' 
she urged. "I want you to see our home. It 
is such a lovely place. I wish everybody had 
as good a home.'' 

Over and over again she spoke of this 
prairie home, and always in such glowing 
terms that the traveler longed to catch sight 

179 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

of the place^ sure that there he might rest 
from his long journey and feast his eyes upon 
the splendors of this lovely place. More than 
once he found himself straining his eyes to 
catch sight of the house he was sure must 
soon rise upon his vision. In fancy he pic- 
tured it. He knew there would be a cheery, 
restful room awaiting him, with windows 
looking out toward the sunset. He did not 
doubt that there would be a man of big, 
brawny body and a handclasp like a vise wait- 
ing to welcome him. 

The long ride ended at last, but instead of 
driving up a graveled walk to a comfortable 
home they turned in at a tiny house of sods. 
And in the doorway sat, not a stout-limbed 
frontiersman, but a poor, crippled husband, 
with face pale from suffering, and two or three 
little ones hovering about his chair. This was 
the home which was so charming to the 
woman who had met him at the station. He 
had not been there very long, though, before 
the minister knew that she was right. This 
was indeed a most delightful home, a home 
built up in the name of God and honored by 
him, a perfect little beauty spot in the midst 
of an otherwise desolate, wind-swept prairie. 

180 



HONEY OUT OF THE KOCK 

As long as he lived the visitor did not forget 
that sod house on the border. Now, he too 
wished that homes like that might be found 
everywhere, the wide world over. And he had 
long since come to see that the mother herself 
was the light and the center of all its loveli- 
ness. 

The Boys and Their Memory 

And do you think the boys of that little 
house will ever forget their home on the fron- 
tier and the mother who made it so dear to 
them? Some day they will go out of their 
cramped sod house. Away they will go into 
the great world outside. But they will carry 
with them a great store of love begotten of 
love. Days will come by and by when they 
will push back from their desks and shut their 
eyes for a little while to think of that little 
earth-made home, with its narrow windows, 
that house made all radiant within by the 
mother who was its light and their joy. From 
the recollections of this home and the dear 
ones in it, they will go back to their work 
stronger and better to meet the hard things 
which lie on ahead. 

It may be they do not now realize what a 
181 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

treasure they have in that humble home. It 
may seem to them a very narrow place in 
which to grow a big life. Youth has no scales 
with which properly to weigh the love of a 
good mother, no rule by which to measure the 
worth of a God-fearing home. Youth's eyes 
are turned away toward grander things; it 
dreams of castles and boundless estates and 
stores of gold. 

But memory starts out with a big basket — 
she knows it will be needed. Day by day she 
drops into it some sparkling jewel, covering 
it with love's enfolding, until at last, when 
the years have slipped away and the heart 
grows faint with its striving, there is a glori- 
ous store awaiting the tired fingers which 
pull aside the curtain. How we do rejoice at 
the gathered treasures of the fast-flitting 
years! How thankful we are that Memory 
has been so faithful while we have been busy 
heaping up the things we thought so well 
worth while but which now seem like very 
baubles! Very poor and trifling do they 
appear now as we set them alongside the 
jewels we once placed so little store by. Now 
the sod home is a palace. Now the mother 
love is recognized as heaven's sweetest gift to 

182 



HONEY OUT OF THE ROCK 

men. God be thanked for the good home ! Be 
it in city or wilderness, the home made for us 
by mother, mother with her love so rich, so 
kind, so patient, so forgiving, boundless as 
the ocean and a prayer ending only when life 
puts up the shutters. 

What Love Can Do 

In the Old Dominion a Christian father and 
mother had the joy of knowing that all the 
boys and girls of their home except one had 
come into the Kingdom. For that one the 
fires of prayer had burned brightly all through 
the years, but the parents slipped over the 
brink without seeing that one great hope ful- 
filled. So the years went on. The house on 
the old homestead was to be torn down to 
make way for a more modern dwelling. Once 
more all the boys and girls, now men and 
women grown, gathered about the family altar 
to pray their last prayer before the dear old 
room should be changed. Here father and 
mother had knelt with them in the days gone 
by. Did they not in fancy feel their presence 
now? Surely, angel forms must have been 
bending low over those praying men and 
women. 

183 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

Then one after another they prayed for the 
brother who was still outside the fold. There 
were tears on the cheeks of them all as they 
pleaded that he too might be won to the God 
of their fathers. And their prayers prevailed. 
The hallowed memories of the home, together 
with the pleading of the loved ones, touched 
the secret spring and set the fountain to flow- 
ing which never will be stayed this side 
eternity. 

A minister who has now gone away to the 
house not made with hands says that he was 
once privileged to meet a woman whose rare 
loveliness made her the center of attraction 
for all who knew her. It was a joy to see her 
smile, for the secret of that smile was the 
beauty of soul it revealed. It was as if for 
one little moment she pushed open the door 
and let her soul shine out in all its purity and 
its glory. And this woman asked the minister 
to visit her in her home. ^^I want you to see 
my lovely boy/' she smiled. 

When at last the invitation could be ac- 
cepted and the boy came into the minister's 
presence, the visitor could scarcely keep back 
a feeling of surprise, mingled with mirth, so 
awkward and so homely was the face and 

184 



HONEY OUT OF THE ROCK 

the form. €ould this be the son of whom 
the woman had said, "I want you to meet 
my lovely boy''? Did the woman notice 
the man's expression of disappointment? If 
she did, she met it like a true mother. She 
placed her arm about the neck of the boy and 
drew him down beside her, kissing him 
proudly and smoothing his hair tenderly, the 
same vision of heaven shining in her face and 
from her eyes. The love of the mother seemed 
to make the freckled cheeks of the boy fairly 
glow. He reached up and caressed the loved 
face bent toward him, his eyes seeming to 
drink in something he saw there, something 
for which he craved with the most intense 
longing. 

Years went by and in a far-distant city the 
minister went to hear a young man preach 
who was said to be awakening the whole coun- 
try round about by the power of his eloquence 
and the fervor of the message he brought. Be- 
hold ! it was the homely boy of the mother of 
the heavenly face ! 

When the sermon was over, he hastened to 
take the minister by the hand. His soul had 
been stirred to its depths by the power of the 
young man's discourse. 

185 



IN THE KIFT OF THE EOCK 

^^How could you preach such a sermon as 
that?'' he questioned; and he knew the minis- 
ter was right when he answered, "My mother 
loved it into me. If I ever do anything worth 
while, it will be because her life is being lived 
over in me." 

Honey in the Eiven Eock 

The traveler in the Holy Land is often re- 
freshed by honey which has been stored away 
by bees in the clefts of the rocks along the 
road. The way sometimes leads through sec- 
tions that are painfully desolate. Few and 
far betw een are the trees and flowers ; but over 
miles of lonely space the little w^orkers of the 
sky and the sunshine bring their sweet argo- 
sies, toiling on, that some day the weary trav- 
eler, fainting by the roadside, may realize the 
better the meaning of the word spoken by 
David : 

^^He should have fed them also with the 
finest of the wheat: and with honey out of 
the rock should I have satisfied thee." 

All along life's way we may find that God 
has laid away for us some rare treasures. 
Often do we clamber over rock-bound roads. 
Life seems dreary. What is there to give us 

1S6 



HONEY OUT OF THE ROCK 

cheer? We wonder why we have been led 
along such a road as this, where no flowers 
bloom, no trees cast their friendly shadow. 
Then, lo! out of the very heart of the rock, 
honey trickles down — God's nectar for his 
way-worn children. Where a moment ago we 
thought there was only sand and barren cliflE 
and hottest sunshine we now gather new life 
and joy and hope. We were expecting to find 
palm trees and vineyards and luscious fruits. 
What eyes had we for rifts in the rock? Sod- 
houses had little charm for us then, so tame 
and commonplace were they. But in a little 
while we shall see that the sod-house was the 
cradle for our finest dreams. There a queen 
held sway. On the throne was mother. 
Freckled faces there were made beautiful by 
the mother who held them between her hands 
and looked the love of her heart deep down 
into our own. Hearts as weak as water were 
made strong and fit for conquest, because 
mother loved into them her own dear self. 
The very rifts of the rock drip with honey 
for the man who will stop to take it. 

O mother, whoever you are, make your home 
a little bit of heaven. It may be you are 
dreaming of fields of greater conquest. 

187 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

Never will holier service be given you than 
to make and keep your home sweet and pure 
and holy. So store it full of honey for the 
dear ones. They may not understand what 
you are doing just now, but the day will come 
when it will all be clear to them. Then for 
them the dearest spot in all the world will 
be the old home; and because mother made it 
so glorious they never will be satisfied until 
they go to see her in the other home, the 
Yonder Home of God. 



188 



CHAPTER XV 

A SONG FROM THE TOP OF THE 
ROCK 

"How bright these glorious spirits shine! 
Whence all their bright array ?*' 

Duncan Matheson, coming from a lonely 
vigil by the side of a sick and wounded soldier 
of the Crimea, was plodding through the knee- 
deep mud toward a miserable stable, which 
was his only lodging place. His heart had 
been weighed down almost to the breaking 
by the scenes which came to his sight every- 
where he might turn. War seemed to him to 
have no bright side. The heart of the man of 
God was oppressed, and in spirit he longed 
for home and the loved ones once more. 

As if overwhelmed by the feeling that only 
beyond the blue of heaven is peace to be found, 
he took off his cap and turned his eyes up- 
ward. There the stars shone in a clear sky, 
so calm, so steady, so peaceful. The sight 
thrilled his very soul and brought to his tired 
heart a sense of rest and security he had not 
known all day long. Pressing on to the top 

189 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

of the hill, so that he might seem to be a little 
nearer to heaven and to God, he broke out 
into a hymn of the long ago. 

"How bright these glorious spirits shine I 
Whence aU their bright array?" 

With the song, a new hope came to him. He 
for the moment forgot the awful things about 
him, and plodded on through the mud to his 
gloomy quarters in the old barn. God and 
heaven were not so very far away, even on the 
field of Sebastopol ! 

He had not forgotten the spell of the night 
before, when, with the words of the dear old 
song running through his mind, his rounds 
brought him face to face with a soldier stand- 
ing under the porch of a deserted house. The 
man's uniform was in tatters and his feet were 
fairly on the ground ; but a light shone in his 
eyes which proved that, although war had 
served him hard, still he had kept something 
fine in his heart, some vision which helped 
him to rise above his present sorrowful state. 

The minister stopped to speak a word with 
the veteran and soon had his story. Only the 
very night before, tired of body and sick of 
heart, bemoaning his bitter lot, the man had 

190 



A SONG FEOM THE TOP OF THE EOCK 

gone out with his gun, fully intending to make 
an end of his life. Then suddenly yonder hill 
rose to his sight, clearly defined in the star- 
light. While he stood there, for the moment 
entranced by the beauty of the scene, from the 
crest of the hill came to his ears the sound of 
a man^s voice, lifted up in the words of a 
hymn. ^^I had heard it many a time in the 
homeland,'' the soldier said. ^^It carried me 
back to the old home, the Book and the stories 
mother used to tell me. You must have heard 
that hymn. ^How bright these glorious spirits 
shine!' Somehow as I listened a new spirit 
came over me and I could not keep back the 
tears. The wicked, rebellious thoughts van- 
ished out of my mind. I am a better man 
to-day, saved by that blessed hymn from the 
top of that hill." 

Never again did Duncan Matheson sing 
that hymn of the homeland that he did not 
thank the Father that it was given him to lift 
up his voice that night in its sweet melody, 
the melody which had led a soul back from 
darkness to light. 

A New Song 

It had been given to the prophet Isaiah to 
191 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

look down the ages and see the Christ of God, 
^^In whom/' as he himself says, ^^my soul de- 
lighteth/' under whose touch the bruised reed 
should never more be broken nor the smoking 
flax quenched; whose mission it should be to 
^^open the eyes of the blind, to bring the pris- 
oners out of the prisons and them that sit in 
darkness out of the prison-houses; for behold 
the former things are come to pass — before 
the new things spring forth I tell you of 
them." 

No wonder this glorious revelation of the 
glory to be should so inspire the prophet that 
he should burst forth into a hymn of joy. 

^^Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his 
praise from the end of the earth, ye that go 
down to the sea, and all that is therein; the 
isles and the inhabitants thereof. Let the 
wilderness and the cities thereof lift up the 
voice, the villages that Kedar doth inhabit; 
let the inhabitants of the rock sing, let them 
shout from the top of the mountains.'^ 

Your New Song and Mine 

Upon every true lover of God and of his 
fellow men just now a peculiar service has 
come. As never before since the time to which 

192 



A SONG FROM THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

the memory of man runneth not thither, the 
blight of trouble has fallen. The world is 
filled with those who weep. Some mourn be- 
cause they know the sting of the desolate 
heart, some out of sympathy ; and to so many 
the sky looks black and the prospect forbid- 
ding. We dread to take up the morning paper 
lest some new tragedy be spread out before 
us. It seems as if all the world is going about 
sadly, with crepe on its arm and a shadow 
in its heart, while prayers of intercession 
make the air heavy, prayers to God that his 
mercy may return to the sons of men. 

In this moment of the world's Gethsemane 
have we forgotten the old promise in the vision 
of Isaiah? Do we not believe it is just as 
true as it was when he first said it, that the 
former things shall come to pass? God's own 
word! Brush the dust from the old Book. 
It has lain so long on the shelf unopened. 
Who knows but this awful neglect may be the 
reason why the world is bathed in crimson 
blood to-day? Open the Book again. "Be- 
hold, the former things are come to pass.'^ 
God's love is still with us. It has been rain- 
ing for days and the skies have been black 
and lowering, but down in the meadow the 

193 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

grass is dotted with daisies and poppies; yel- 
low and purple and lavender are the blossoms 
which the raindrops have brought; all the 
earth is carpeted wdth emerald, the gift of the 
rain. And in a to-morrow soon to come we 
shall gather in the ears of corn, so heavy that 
they hang down for very richness, and apples 
rosy red will drop into the hand held up to 
receive them. 

When Light Came In 

Do you not know whole villages in which 
at certain seasons of the year all the houses 
are closed? The windows are covered with 
boards nailed over them to protect the glass. 
Very desolate seem these towns now as we 
pass along their silent streets. Not a gleam 
of light shines out across the winter's snow. 
The heart of the visitor is made lonely by the 
prospect. 

There comes a day when from those very 
w^indows a friendly lamp sends out its cheery 
rays. The blinds are taken down. The dead 
leaves are raked up about the yards. All is 
bright once more wdth the laughter of boys 
and girls. Harp and piano and human voice 
do their best to drive out the shadows of yes- 

194 



A SONG FROM THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

terday. Soon from end to end the little vil- 
lage is bright with light and beauty. From 
one cottage after another the lamps have sent 
out their scimitars of light to pierce the dark- 
ness. The glory of another summer has come. 
The winter is past; sunshine and happiness 
are here again! 

In the world's abattoirs a vessel is set to 
catch the current of the lifeblood as it flows 
from the doomed creatures that come within 
its deadly pale. By and by those crimson 
drops, now changed and crystallized, come 
back to us in new form. We take them and 
out of their strength grow our most beautiful 
flowers, the yellowest of corn, the finest 
granaries of wheat — life blood turned into 
life-giving, joy-bringing harvest. 

And in a little while, when men come back 
to their better selves, after pain has wrought 
out its purifying work ; when carelessness and 
indifference and open sin have been wiped 
out in the red-hot crucible of war; when God 
shall see in the hearts of men — in your heart 
and mine — the sure signs of repentance and 
contrition, he will hasten to bring back the 
day of rejoicing. The lights which are now 
out will be brought in again. The shed blood 

195 



IN THE EIPT OP THE EOCK 

will help us to grow the roses and the violets 
of a better life. Sorrow and sighing will flee 
away and hope rise to newer flights. 

Lift the Window Higher 

A man I knew was sick unto death. Every 
morning fearing lest the light should be too 
bright in the room for his weakened eyesight, 
the one who cared for her husband would say, 
"Shall I not lower the shade just a little?^' 
And always the answer would come back: 
"Eaise it just as high as you can, sweetheart. 
I do love the light so." And when he began 
to mend a little, kind friends came in to see 
him. They knew the story of the lifted cur- 
tain and they did not sit down to look sad 
and sorrowful; they brought him smiles and 
fragrant flowers; they told him all the pleas- 
ant things they could. Thus they helped to 
woo him back to health. 

The world to-day needs a cheery song — a 
song of the homeland, a song of hope and help 
and uplift. It is sick and tired of sin ; it longs 
for the hymn which tells of God^s forgiving 
love, his mercy for a repentant people. It is 
full of sorrow for a blighted and sin-cursed 
past; it is listening hard for the song in the 

196 



A SONG FROM THE TOP OF THE ROCK 

night from the top of the rock which shall 
call it back to Jesus. And who shall sing 
that song? Are your feet and mine firmly on 
the Rock, so that we can do it? Does our 
faith lay hold upon the mountain path leading 
up to the city of God? Then it is for us to 
take up again the sweet old song of Isaiah: 
"Sing unto the Lord a new song!'' 

Somehow the name of the author has been 
dropped from the following lines; that will 
take nothing from their beauty, however. So 
let us pass them on, with a prayer that they 
may help and bless and cheer all who read 
them : 

" *When the outlook is dark, try the uplook!' 
These words hold a message of cheer: 
Be glad while repeating them over, 

And smile when the shadows appear. 
Above and beyond stands the Master, 

He sees what we do for his sake; 
He never will fail nor forsake us, 
'He knoweth the way that we take.' 

** 'When the outlook is dark, try the uplook!' 
The uplook of faith and good cheer. 
The love of the Father surrounds us. 

He knows when the shadows are near. 
Be brave, then, and keep the eyes lifted. 

And smile on the dreariest day: 
His smile will glow in the darkness; 
His light will illumine the way." 
197 



CHAPTER XVI 
ON THE ROCK FOUNDATION 

The builders of a great line of railway 
pushed their operations on successfully until 
they were almost within sight of the end. So 
far they had met with very few obstacles 
worthy of the name. All at once they found 
themselves face to face with what appeared 
to be an insuperable difficulty. A pile of 
gravel thrown from the cars disappeared in 
a night. Last night the material lay there 
in a great heap, ready for use the next day. 
In the morning it had dropped out of sight. 
Only a yawning cavity met their gaze. 

Many more carloads of gravel were brought 
and dumped into the opening. All went down 
out of sight. The engineers drove heavy piles 
down twenty, thirty, forty, fifty feet in length, 
but the longest post failed to strike anything 
solid. It seemed as if the pit were indeed 
bottomless. 

It was not feasible to change the line of 
the road. There was no way around. Now 

198 



ON THE EOCK FOUNDATION 

the contractors set themselves about the task 
before them in grim earnest. Whole train 
loads of stone, earth, and other material were 
brought and sent whirling down that rent in 
the garment of old mother earth. When these 
had gone out of sight, other train loads fol- 
lowed ; and so the work went on for days and 
hope was nearly lost. Then the fight came to 
an end. Solid rock had been found at last. 

Bed Rock 

Those who built the capitol of one of our 
great States had well-nigh as difficult a task 
in finding a sure foundation for the giant 
structure. A rock foundation they must 
have; the building never would be safe other- 
wise. So on and on they dug through treach- 
erous sand and unstable earth, never daring 
to rest until they came to bed rock. It was 
a day of rejoicing when at last they could 
touch something that would not give way and 
feel that they might now lay the lower walls 
of the capitol safely. 

Building Where No Land Is 

Far to the southwestward the people of one 
of the islands awoke to the startling fact that 

199 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

they were being pushed by their own growth 
of population into the sea. Scarcely was there 
room for the men and women already on this 
narrow point of land, and children were being 
given them every year. What should they do? 
Stand there and be crowded into the sea? 
Some proposed that they might take ship and 
sail away to other lands. The love of home is 
strong, however, even with the dwellers of the 
sea. They shrank from venturing far from 
the place which had given them birth. But 
what could they do? 

It must be that God gave them the way out 
of their trouble. With a determination well 
w^orthy of any people they set themselves to 
the task of making their island larger. Sound- 
ing the sea until they found a coral reef, they 
built a raft and towed it out to the ridge. 
There they anchored it near the middle of the 
bed of coral. Did they not lift up their hearts 
in thanksgiving that the unseen toilers of the 
deep had laid for them so secure a foundation 
in a day when they knew not what was to be 
their future need? 

From the outer rim of the reef, great pieces 
of coral were torn and carried to the raft. 
Slowly it sank to the top of the rock, and this 

200 



ON THE ROCK FOUNDATION 

was the framework of the new island. It was 
home-building in the very bosom of the deep. 
More fragments of coral, more earth from the 
mainland, more material of any and of every 
kind was brought, so that inch by inch the 
new land was connected with the mother 
island; and the day came when the people 
gained their point and drove back the water, 
so that they could move over to the new home. 
There houses were built, trees were set out, 
crops were grown. God crowned the efforts 
of those simple people of the great hope. 
There they live, as if held in the palm of the 
Almighty, safe in their house built upon a 
rock. 

The Master's Two Pictures 

What a maker of pictures was the Master! 
Other teachers of the past had taught in a 
language hard to understand. They took a 
kernel of truth and so wrapped it about with 
mystery that the mind of the common folk 
could grasp it but feebly. Men wondered 
what could be the meaning of the doctrines 
which were taught them, wondered and went 
away with thirst for truth not satisfied. The 
Great Teacher was the first to meet the yearn- 

201 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

ing of the human heart. Jesus spoke in a 
straightforward, clear, distinct, earnest way. 
He had no time for mysteries. Only a hand- 
breadth of time had been granted him in 
which to tell the most wonderful story that 
mortal had ever heard. What a relief it must 
have been to the people who had so long lis- 
tened helplessly and gone on hopelessly, like 
a ship feeling its way through a dense fog! 
Now they <2ould understand. They knew what 
Jesus meant when he spoke to them about the 
trees and the fields, the crops and the flowers. 
They had felt in their own lives the whisper- 
ings of nature. How it inspired them when 
the Master wove these simple things into mes- 
sages of life! Who ever before had thought 
of likening the growth of the things in nature 
to the building of character? 

The very summit of the teaching of Jesus 
was reached that day when he preached the 
Sermon on the Mount. That was his master- 
piece. Nothing like it had ever been known. 
No creation of man has since equaled it. None 
ever will. It was indeed revolutionary. It 
struck right at the root of everything in life. 
It came as a new code of conduct, an original 
plan for the building of life, individual, politi- 



ON THE EOCK FOUNDATION 

cal, national. Not even yet have men come 
to accept that matchless epitome of principles. 
Not that it is not plain enough. Those who 
heard it then knew what Jesus meant; we 
know to-day. The trouble ever has been, is 
noAV, and must be till men give it up, the pride 
and selfishness of the human heart. It will 
not do as well as it knows. We are too head- 
strong, too bent upon seeking our own selfish 
interests to bring our lives into subjection to 
the laws promulgated by Christ. We know 
that life built on the plan of Jesus is the true, 
the well-rounded life ; but we keep on building 
according to our own notions. We know that 
there can never be peace or good will among 
men on earth until we lay down the weapons 
of our warfare and say: "Come into our 
hearts. Lord Jesus. We yield ourselves and 
all we have and are to thee.'' But we keep 
on trying to please ourselves, to get every- 
thing we can, no matter to whom it belongs, 
to hate those who hate us, to wreak vengeance 
upon those who injure us and to wonder why 
we are never happy. 

On the Sand 
Jesus saw that this would be so. He was 



IN THE RIFT OF THE EOCK 

aware that men would always be divided into 
two great classes. A great rock cannot be 
rolled from the hillside into a stream and the 
current not be changed, one part to sweep 
away to the left, the other to swing out to the 
right. When the man of the brawny arm 
sets his wedge into the heart of the oak and 
strikes it hard enough and long enough, a cleft 
will be made. Some of those who heard Jesus 
would stand the test; some would go down 
before the trial of their faith. It would be 
so to the end of time. 

That there might be no possible doubt as 
to the meaning of what he had been saying, 
and to serve as a most impressive warning 
for all time, toward the close of his sermon, 
the Master drew two word pictures of striking 
force and beauty. Think of them for a mo- 
ment. 

^^Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings 
of mine and doeth them, I will liken him to a 
wise man, who built his house upon a rock: 
and the rain descended, and the floods came, 
and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, 
and it fell not: for it was founded upon a 
rock." 

Builded upon a rock! Surely, they under- 

204 



ON THE ROCK FOUNDATION 

stood that Jesus was the Rock. Life with its 
corner stone laid upon that Rock never could 
be shaken. It would be safe amid the storms 
of the ages. Surely, men would make haste 
to build upon that foundation. Ah, if only 
they would! But Christ knew there would 
be souls which would rebel and say, ^^I will 
not.'' How well he knows the hearts of men! 
Listen as he lays with faultless touch the 
colors on that other picture: 

"And every one that heareth these sayings 
of mine and doeth them not, shall be likened 
unto a foolish man, which built his house 
upon the sand: and the rain descended, and 
the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat 
upon that house ; and it fell : and great was 
the fall of it." 

"Great was the fall of it.'' Ah, what be- 
comes of the poor, puny will of man now? 
O Christ, thou knowest the peril of the soul ! 
Down, down, down it goes, because it wills 
to go. The Rock was there, and also there the 
shifting sands. Men might build where they 
would. They chose the sands, and so they 
are choosing still. In all the round of human 
thinking there is no darker tragedy than this, 
that men might build their lives on the Rock, 

205 



IN THE KIFT OF THE ROCK 

but they prefer to lay their foundation stones 
upon the sand. So they go whirling away 
with the rapids of sin, crushed, wind-swept, 
tempest-tossed — men and nations lost in the 
maelstrom of evil, because they will not live 
up to the teachings of the Christ of Galilee. 

It seems so easy to build on the sand. No 
digging deep for a sure foundation is neces- 
sary; just lay the corner stone on the top and 
go on with the superstructure. So much time 
is saved. Cross cuts to success in business; 
a bit of trickery in making a deal ; white lies 
that soon come to slip glibly from the tongue ; 
passing the Book by in the morning and going 
to bed at night too tired to think of it ; taking 
the Sabbath day as the time to read up the 
magazines or to post the books that have got- 
ten a bit behind in the pressure of the week; 
aye, just a smile when God's sure time of 
reckoning is mentioned — these are the things 
which tempt the life-builder to turn away from 
the Rock and choose the treacherous sand. 
Then comes the crash. The winds begin to 
howl. The floods sweep about the soul, which 
is built too close to the edge of death. Just 
there, within the reach of us all is the Rock 
that standeth sure. Why not make heaven 

206 



ON THE ROCK FOUNDATION 

safe when we may? The house falls, because 
no such house can stand. God will not let it 
stand. 

"I have seen the wicked in great power, 
spreading himself like a green bay tree. Yet, 
he passed away, and, lo, he was not; yea, 
I sought him, but he could not be found. 

^The wicked plotteth against the just, and 
gnasheth upon him with his teeth. The Lord 
shall laugh at him, for he seeth that his day 
is coming." 

So the sands slip away beneath our feet! 
So the very ground crumbles under the feet 
of armies and of nations and of world powers, 
plunging them into the blackness of despair, 
^^Because ye will not ! Ye will not listen and 
obey !'' 

The Eock of Ages 

But think once again. ^^It fell not: for it 
was founded upon a rock." 

Thank God there is a Rock which cannot be 
moved ! There can be a building which wind, 
nor storm, nor tempest blast can move! 
Praised be his name that there is safety in the 
Rock Foundation! Give us the hearing ear, 
O Christ, and make us willing to plant our feet 

207 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

where the pelting of the storm, the raging of 
the flood, the sweeping of the winds will 
never disturb onr habitation. There, firmly 
grounded, we will laugh at the tumult raging 
about us ! 

"Build ye on the Rock foundation, 

And thy house shaU surely stand! 
When the storm brings desolation 
To the house built on the sand. 

"Build ye on the Rock foundation, 

Build with purpose true and brave; 
Build a glorious habitation, 
Strong to shelter, strong to save! 

"Build ye on the Rock foundation. 
Corner stone of wondrous love! 
In the day of exultation 
Thou Shalt dwell with Christ above! 

"Build ye on the Rock foundation. 

On the Rock that standeth sure; 
On the Rock of God's salvation 
That forever shall endure!" 

(Mrs. C. E. Breck.) 



208 



CHAPTER XVII 
THAT ROCK WAS CHRIST! 

What a chill comes over the heart when 
one feels that the earth is slipping from under 
one's feet! 

A little way out from one of our Eastern 
cities, the country loses itself in a low, 
swampy morass. No man who knows the 
treacherous nature of the soil ever ventures 
when in his right mind into this place. Crazed 
with drink, however, a young man one night 
started for home through the darkness. He 
lost his way when he came to the outskirts of 
the city and wandered about until he was too 
tired to go any farther. Sinking down just 
where he was, he fell asleep, unconscious of 
the danger threatening him. 

How long he slept no one knows. With a 
start he awoke. The first impression which 
came over him was that he must be freezing 
to death there all alone. His lower limbs were 
numb. When he tried to move them he was 

209 



IN THE RIFT OP THE ROCK 

startled to find that they were caught as if in 
a vise. He could not stir either foot! Then 
the terrible conviction swept over him that he 
was fast in the ooze of the swamp. In vain 
he struggled to release himself. The harder 
he tried to lift himself from his horrible posi- 
tion, the deeper he sank into the mire. Lower 
and lower his body sank until the slime w^as 
breast high. Fear had by this time thoroughly 
sobered him and he realized his peril. He 
trembled from head to foot and great drops 
of sweat stood out on his face. Soon his head 
and shoulders were the only parts of his body 
that were above the water and mud. A minute 
more and the mire was up to his neck. With 
all his might he shouted for help ! Each mo- 
ment he was becoming more and more ex- 
hausted, and still caught in the grip of that 
awful death he gave himself up for lost. But 
God had his plans for that man's life. On the 
night wind the sinking man's cry was borne 
to the ear of one who happened to be in the 
vicinity, and led on by the sound of the ever- 
weakening voice, the stranger made his way 
into the swamp and succeeded in pulling the 
unhappy man out to firmer ground — saved 
when he was slipping down to death ! 

210 



THAT EOCK WAS CHRIST! 

Peter knew something like this that day 
when he set out to walk upon the waves of the 
Sea of Galilee. Very bravely he planted his 
footsteps on the tossing billows in the begin- 
ning. Faith sang a cheering song in his heart. 
Out yonder was the Master. Had not he 
called to his servant, "Come!" in response to 
the disciple's challenge, "Lord, if it be thou, 
bid me come unto thee on the water"? And 
the answer had come so quickly and so assur- 
ingly that it seemed to Peter that nothing 
could happen to him on the way. For a little 
while all went well. What if the winds did 
roar and the sea beneath his feet was lashed 
into a foam by the storm? He was on the 
way to Jesus. Let the tempest howl! Let 
the waves rock! His eyes were not on the 
billows, but away out there on the dear face 
of the Master. All seemed well. 

Losing the Far Look 

Then happened what seemed a moment ago 
to Peter the impossible. When he was almost 
within reach of the Lord he lost heart. Did 
he turn his eyes away from the face of the 
Master? He began to go down. Ankle deep, 
knee deep, the waves sweeping upward as if 

211 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

to smite him in the face. No longer did he 
see the calm face of the Christ. His eyes were 
filled with the mist of the storm. The rushing 
of the storm shut out the sound of the sweet 
voice calling, "Come!'' The howling of the 
wind drowned everything but the fear of 
Peter. In a frenzy of terror he cried, "Lord, 
save me!'' When faith lost its grip his feet 
had been washed from their foundation. 

Forgetting the far look! Ah! that is the 
danger with us all to-day. Men and nations 
are groping about in the darkness everywhere 
— everywhere save where i^esus is. We are 
struggling for something upon which to plant 
our feet. The old foundations seem to be slip- 
ping, or already to have slipped, until good 
men everywhere are wondering what is to be 
the end of it all. Faith staggers. It is a 
testing time for the souls of us all. Is there 
anything sure anywhere? 

Losing Sight of Jesus 

In a most thoughtful editorial published 
not long ago in the British Weekly, the writer 
when speaking of conditions in England be- 
fore the breaking out of the great European 
war, asks, ^^Is it not true that before the war 

212 



THAT ROCK WAS CHRIST! 

we were losing Christ out of our national 
life?" This question he goes on to answer 
in such language as this : "A steady drift was 
carrying us away from our true goal. We 
were forgetting God, and what that means, 
we are beginning to understand. ... A quiet 
atheism was the temper of the times in many 
circles. There were portents of monstrous 
growth. The very foundation truths of mo- 
rality were ridiculed by a cynicism as putrid, 
profane, and heartless as any that ever has 
appeared in the world. A very acute observer 
of our time says that the great characteristic 
of the last ten or twenty years was restless- 
ness. We did not find and we did not seek 
true rest. All this means that Christ was 
knocking at the door in vain, as of old.'' 

While there are some signs of a reassuring 
nature, the editor declares that ^^there is not 
that urgency and intensity of prayer that we 
need before wq can be very hopeful. Nor is 
there the spirit of humiliation which befits 
us in our present state. Say whatever we will, 
the sins of the nation have been great, and it 
may well be, as Sir David Beatty has said, that 
we shall not begin to gain victory till we are 
brought to our knees in supplication. It is 

213 



IN THE EIFT OF THE EOCK 

with God we have to do. We may multiply 
our munitions and our soldiers. We may call 
in new counselors and leaders, and yet noth- 
ing will avail us if w^e leave Christ out. He 
is the Captain of our salvation. It is under 
him that we must attain victory. . . . We 
cannot live without Christ. . . . There is no 
hope for us except in humiliation and prayer 
and faith. ^Come and let us return unto the 
Lord.' '' 

Christ the Rock 

And it is true, as true for all the w^orld as 
for England. Jesus Christ is the only cure 
for the wounds of the world. Men may seek 
peace and rest everywhere else; at last they 
must come back to him. 

Moses knew the heart of the people of 
Israel better than they knew it themselves. 
From the red-hot ovens of the brickkilns of 
Egypt even up to the border lines of the 
promised land he had done his best to help 
them to understand that in Jehovah, and in 
him alone, w^as their strength and their peace 
and their salvation. At times it seemed as 
if they felt this to be true. Then they returned 
from their foolish wanderings for a little 

214 



THAT ROCK WAS CHRIST! 

while to walk in the statutes of God. Soon 
sin came back again with its lure and every- 
thing seemed lost again. The heart of the 
great leader might well have been weak within 
him. 

Well on toward the end of his storm-swept 
career, after God had appeared to his servant 
at the door of the tabernacle and told him 
that soon the call home would come to him, 
Moses made haste to bring to an end his writ- 
ing of the Book of the Law. When the pre- 
cious parchments had been finished and safely 
laid aw^ay in the side of the ark of the cove- 
nant, Moses wrote a wonderful song and taught 
it to the children of Israel, for his heart could 
not give up its longing for them. Still hope 
sang its song in his heart, that, after all, the 
best might come to them, even while he trem- 
bled when he thought of what must be the 
shadows through which they might pass be- 
fore they came up out of sin's crucible. How 
that song must have rung in their ears on 
the day when Moses first sang it! How its 
echo must have come back in the years which 
came afterward, when all the prophecies of 
their Great Commander had come to pass ! 

^^Give ear, O ye heavens, and I will speak; 
215 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

and hear, O earth, the words of my mouth. 
My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech 
shall distill as the dew, as the small rain upon 
the tender herb, and as the showers upon the 
grass. Because I will publish the name of 
the Lord : ascribe ye greatness unto our God. 
He is the Eock, his work is perfect: for all 
his ways are judgment: a God of truth and 
without iniquity, just and right is he." 

They had come over a rock-strewn road; 
and yet, as they looked back over it now, they 
could not help realizing that God had ever 
been to them a sure Rock of defense. When 
they had been proud of heart and willful; 
when dangers had beset their path, so that 
the very earth seemed to be slipping from 
under them; when sin had dug the founda- 
tion stones from the house of their habitation ; 
when they had seemed to be tottering swiftly 
to destruction; when the wilderness way had 
been long and hope was flickering low in its 
socket; when to follow the pillar of cloud by 
day and the pillar of fire by night longer ap- 
peared to be a mockery, then, if they but 
turned away from their headstrong course 
and planted their feet once more on the Rock, 
all had been well with them. The shadows 

216 



THAT EOCK WAS CHRIST! 

fled; hope came back with a song that was 
sweeter than any it ever had sung; in their 
dreams they caught the vision of the hilltops 
of the land that was soon to be. 

Drinking of the Rock 

Blessed be the touch of the Rock to our 
weary feet! Why are we so easily deceived? 
"I am the Rock!'' So whispers sin, and its 
voice is so alluring! We drop all else and 
hasten to take our places on the deceptive 
foundation. But it is so slippery! Before 
we know it we are hurled head foremost into 
the bottomless pit. "Trust yourself to me. I 
will hold you safely" — it is the voice of pas- 
sion, and we leap to its crimson embrace, only 
to find that we have trusted sinking sand. So 
it is with pride and selfishness and ambition 
and willful desire and worldly pleasure — all 
nothing but rotten stone ! 

Then we open the Book and turn to the 
glorious words of Paul. He is speaking of 
the days when the fathers were under the 
cloud, passing out of bondage into freedom. 
It was a day of testing, of sea and wilderness, 
of hunger and thirst; of doubt and fear; of 
fiery serpents and thorn-set road : still in this 

217 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

time of stress, "They did all drink the same 
spiritual drink : for they drank of that spirit- 
ual Rock that followed them: and that Rock 
was Christ.'^ 

The Lord's One Foundation 

"For other foundation can no man lay than 
that is laid, which is Jesus Christ.'^ 

Man is always laying foundations. There 
was a time w^hen this was not so. Once man 
did not know the need of a house that had 
foundations. Then he slept out under the 
stars, looking up into the face of God who 
came down in the cool of the day to talk wdth 
his child. That was a happy day. Then man 
w^as pure and care-free, w^alking with his hand 
in the hand of God and holding sweet com- 
munion with him. 

Then something came into the heart of man. 
The spirit of evil flung its wdngs over the very 
paradise of God. Its black shadow never has 
fully lifted since, but it is lifting I Man began 
to be afraid — ^yes, afraid of his best, his truest 
Friend. Because it was against this Friend 
that he had sinned, man saw something in the 
pure eyes which looked upon him, something 
that never had been in the eyes of God before. 

218 



THAT EOCK WAS CHRIST! 

Sorrow? God is always grieved when his 
children go astray. Pity? Surely, he does 
pity you and me when we bring upon ourselves 
the penalty of sin. And still, more than sor- 
row, more than pity showed in the face of the 
Holy One when man met him face to face. 
The flame of justice now glowed where once 
only love had rested on the heavenlit coun- 
tenance. 

And that gaze was more than man could 
endure. It burned itself deep into his very 
soul and seared like a red-hot iron. It blazed 
out now in a sword before which man fled in 
terror, staying not in his flight until the gates 
of the garden swung to behind him and para- 
dise was lost. Fig leaves now, stitched to- 
gether with thorns, so that man might hide 
himself from the sorrowful, pitying, stern 
eyes of his Maker. Houses now, to keep off 
the chills of the night and to afford protection 
from enemies never known in the past. At 
first a few branches broken from the trees 
and bent together at the top; then slender 
poles covered with the skins of the poor crea- 
tures of field and forest which God had made 
and brought to man that he might name them. 
That day these poor, dumb things crept up 

219 



IN THE EIFT OF THE ROCK 

to lick the hand of the man who loved them; 
but now they trembled when they saw him 
coming, for he had in his hand an instrument 
with which to take the life he could not give 
back. They knew now that his hand was to 
be against them. Sin had done it — now man 
had become a murdei'er. This was the awful 
change wrought in the soul of man by the fall. 

But the skin-covered tent was not strong 
enough to do all man must have done and he 
sought something more secure: timber from 
the wood, rocks out of the quarry, brick baked 
as hard as stone, and all girt about with bars 
and bands of steel, so that man might be safe 
from the penalty of his sin. 

And before man learned what fire and flood 
and frost will do, he placed his house on things 
which would not last. The earth, shifting 
sands, stakes driven down into the ground — 
these were the things upon which he built and 
wondered when he saw how quickly they were 
all swept away. Could it be true that every 
force of God had been turned against him? 
It seemed to him so, for the house he reared 
so hopefully last night lay all in ruins in the 
morning. Deeper he drove his posts down 
into the earth. He dug until he came to the 

220 



THAT ROCK WAS CHRIST! 

rock; tent and tabernacle passed away. The 
temple, the castle, the rock fortress became 
man's habitation. 

Safe now? Ah! man never has yet been 
able to dig so deep nor to lay his foundation 
so securely that God in his own time would 
not shake it into dust. Nor can man ever 
build his home anywhere on the face of this 
old earth and be sure that it will stand the 
touch of God which is certain to be laid upon 
it. He may climb the mountain and make his 
home among the cliffs; he may go down into 
earth's deepest caverns and think he is safe 
there; still God will find him and tear down 
the things he has built. Never until man 
lays his foundations in the Almighty; only 
when he accepts the atonement wrought out 
by Jesus Christ and becomes reconciled to 
God; only when the new heaven and the new 
earth come down will man come into the joy 
of the city that hath foundations, the mansion 
prepared for him by the Christ, the home 
which cannot be moved throughout all eter- 
nity. 

And all this is just as true of the soul of 
man as it is of the things which are seen. 
Ever since man lifted the latch of the door 

221 



IN THE RIFT OF THE ROCK 

and stepped out of paradise he has been trying 
to lay foundations for his soul. What a miser- 
able failure he has made of it ! Just when he 
has thought he had built most securely, God 
has put out his finger and all his little huts 
have crumbled into nothing. Not a single 
form of religion born out of the mind of man 
has ever stood, and none ever can stand but 
for a night ! 

^^Other foundation can no man lay.'' Who 
says this? God whispered it into the ear of 
his child that day when he stood shivering on 
the world's threshold, and he never has for- 
gotten it, nor can he forget it as long as time 
shall last. He may try to put it away out 
of his mind, so that he may follow the will-o'- 
the-wisp of his own imaginings; pride may 
keep him from acknowledging its truth ; ambi- 
tion may stifle its wooings, but God's word is 
sure : ^^Other foundation can no man lay." 

But a foundation is laid. O thought of 
wondrous beauty! ^^Is laidF^ Not "will be 
laid" in some dim, far-off time, too late, per- 
haps, for you and me ever to see it; but now, 
now and forever. ^*ls laid!" No need to 
worry; God has done it. His purpose stands 
and will stand until the trump shall sound 

222 



THAT ROCK WAS CHEIST! 

and time shall be no more. ^^Is laid!'' and 
laid in Christ Jesus. 

When all the puny bough houses reared by 
man's hands have been tossed into forgetful- 
ness ; when the wretched religions of his devis- 
ing have been tried and proven worthless; 
when at last man comes to know and to con- 
fess that in the name of Jesus alone is there 
salvation, then, and not until then, will trouble 
flee away and heaven come down to earth once 
more. 

Blessed Lord Jesus, in thee is my hope laid. 
I have been very willful. I have tried to sing 
a song of life to the tinkling of my own 
cymbals. Now let me put all these poor things 
aside and take up the harp of thine own mak- 
ing. Nay, let my own soul be the harp. Touch 
thou its strings with thy loving fingers. 
Teach thou my lips to sing the praise of thy 
dear name. I have stooped to the sands and 
dreamed that the stones I placed upon them 
for the habitation of my soul would outlast 
the storms. Now I see what a wreck I have 
made of it. Be thou my Rock Foundation. 
All sapphire and jasper and emerald, all 
topaz, all beryl and amethyst will then be the 
walls of my soul. Its gates will be set with 

223 



IN THE RIFT OP THE ROCK 

pearls, its streets will be paved with pure 
gold. It will need no light of sun nor moon. 
Stars need not shine upon it, for the glory of 
God shall be its clear shining, and the Lamb 
shall be the Light thereof forever and forever ! 

"AU hail the power of Jesus* name, 
Let angels prostrate fall. 
Bring forth the royal diadem. 
And crown him Lord of all! 

"Ye chosen seed of Israel's race, 
Ye ransomed from the fall, 
Hail him who saves you by his grace. 
And crown him Lord of all! 

"Let every kindred, every tribe, 

On this terrestrial ball, 
To him all majesty ascribe, 
And crown him Lord of all! 

"0! that with yonder sacred throng 
We at his feet may fall! 
Well join the everlasting song, 
And crown him Lord of all!" 

(Perronet.) 



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